


My Little Corner of the World

by javajunkie



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-19 06:23:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 62,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1459210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/javajunkie/pseuds/javajunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Felicity Smoak randomly helps someone out with computer problems at a coffee shop, she has no idea just how much that single action will change the course of her life. Oliver x Felicity AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There was something Felicity always liked about coffee shops. The coffee was a plus, of course, and the pleasant bitter-sweet smell hanging in the air from fresh baked pastries and newly brewed coffee. And then there were all the people. It was probably a byproduct of a relatively lonely childhood that she enjoyed being around people. She liked the hustle and bustle, hearing snippets of conversations and catching a whiff of someone's shampoo.

She went so often that she had a usual table. It was smack dab in the middle of the shop, but pressed against a particularly useful support beam equipped with a socket. It was dicey business to come armed with a laptop to a coffee shop without staking out a place next to the plug, and after watching her battery drain too many times over the weeks, Felicity had learned her lesson and relocated permanently to the seat beside the socket.

The shop was busier than usual that Saturday afternoon, people drifting through the tables in what almost felt like shifts. Felicity barely noticed. She was too busy trying to hack into the library's mainframe to rectify an unwarranted late fee. The grid was surprisingly well protected, and she continued searching for some chink in the armor that would let her in.

Somewhere in between her fourth and seventh failed attempt, a man sat at the table beside her. Normally, she wouldn't have noticed him. The people in the shop were more of an ambient perk to her than one she actually noticed and interacted with, but something about him pulled her from her hacking reverie. The first thing that struck her was that he was incredibly good looking. His face was the type that ended up on TV screens and on magazines. Her eyes trailed quickly from his profile down to his computer screen. At her angle she could just catch the contents, and she could see that something was off with the graphics. He hit the trackpad irritably, followed by the harried swiping that could only mean one thing.

"Come on," he mumbled irritably. He hit the trackpad again. "This is ridiculous."

She hesitated for a moment before leaning forward and telling him, "You need to reboot it."

He glanced over, mouth pulled into a tired frown, and said, "What?"

"Your computer," she explained. "It's frozen, right?" He nodded. "So, you need to reboot it. It should clear it right up."

"Okay, thanks," he said, smiling slightly as he glanced back down at his computer. He stared at the keyboard for a moment before saying, "I reboot by…"

"The large button on the top right," Felicity said, pointing at a round button at the top of the computer's keyboard. "Hold that down until the screen turns black. It'll start up again on its own."

"Right, sure. I knew that."

She smirked. "Sure you did."

"Thanks."

Felicity grinned a bit, nodding in acknowledgement, and returned to her hacking. But she kept getting distracted. Her eyes kept going back to his table, watching him stare listlessly at his screen. She figured the rebooting would work – it usually did for freezing – but then he was looking up at her again, irritation furrowing his brow.

"It didn't work, huh?"

"No."

"Okay, it might be your battery then. It might have some dust in it, or something. Sometimes that can cause it to get gunked up. You need to take out the battery and blow on it a little."

He looked at her blankly. It seemed she was going to have to take this helping thing a step further. She gestured toward his table and he nodded, quickly saying, "Yeah, sure, thanks."

She pulled the computer toward her and shut the lid. Turning it over, she ran her hand over the battery. There were two locks on either side of the battery, each with a single thin indent designed to be used to turn the locks in case of battery removal.

"Do you have a penny or something?" she asked, glancing up at him. Her glasses had slipped down her nose a bit as she was examining the computer, and she pushed them back up.

"Yeah, sure."

He reached in his pocket and pulled out a surprisingly shiny penny. All of hers were dingy and tarnished, and here was his penny looking like it came straight from the mint. Maybe this is what a lucky penny looked like. She wouldn't say hers ever were.

She put the edge of the penny into the little indent on the lock and turned it. The lock came unhinged easily, and she made quick work of the other. The battery popped out and she carefully blew into all the ridges, bits of dust blowing out into the coffee and pastry speckled air. She put it back in the computer and secured the locks. A few minutes later the computer was rebooted and working like new.

"You're really good at this stuff," he noted, grinning at her.

"I like computers," she said with a shrug. "I understand them."

"You sure do."

She went to say something else when his attention was diverted by someone who walked into the coffee shop. He gave a small wave to whoever it was, and Felicity stood.

"Well, good luck with your computer. I hope it behaves for you."

He laughed. "Thanks."

She turned back to her table and picked up her her empty coffee cup on the way to the counter for a refill before the pretty brunette got to his table. She was a few feet away, waiting in line, but she could still faintly hear their conversation.

"Who was that?" the girl asked.

"Just some girl," he returned. "She helped me with my computer."

"That was nice of her."

"Yeah."

The conversation turned toward other topics, like they always did.

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Felicity wondered what it was like for people who didn't dread Mondays. She assumed it was happy and complacent people, who liked their jobs and felt challenged and invigorated by their work. Being in the IT department at a high school was neither challenging nor invigorating. The most interesting problem she got involved students pranking another by changing the language of their laptops or cell phones. One time she'd seen an iPhone that had actually been reprogrammed so that all the applications and everything were in Klingon. She thought it was the funniest thing, but even that had only taken her fifteen minutes to fix.

The one good thing about her job was the pay. Working for one of Starling City's most prestigious private high schools ensured a hefty paycheck with equally hefty benefits. It was one of the reasons her parents had come around to her taking the job over the PhD program she'd been accepted to and then turned down in New York. They couldn't understand at first how she could turn down such an opportunity. What they didn't know is that it was hard enough being alone in her own city. She couldn't even imagine it in a foreign one.

The door opened to the office and a slim girl with wavy brown hair walked in, her uniform skirt clearly hemmed about two or three inches shorter than mandated. But she wore it well. Her shirt was untucked, tie hanging loosely around her neck. There was some pin on the lapel of the jacket, touting some charity cause that would probably be out of fashion by the next week.

"Thea, what can I do for you?" Felicity asked with a knowing smile. Thea was one of their regulars. She was about as technologically illiterate as they came, and Felicity was constantly helping her figure out powerpoint, email, and anything else that popped up on the computer screen.

"Okay, so I wrote this big paper for my class last night," Thea said. "And I saved it. I swear I did. But now, I can't find it. I need you to find it. Because it's sort of worth my entire grade."

"Okay," Felicity said crisply. "What did you name it?"

Not missing a beat, Thea replied, "Plate Fucking Tectonics Paper."

Felicity smirked, typing the title into the search bar. Nothing came up and she tried a few more little tricks, still not getting anywhere. She could sense Thea becoming increasingly tense as her paper continued to be missing in action.

"Alright, there's one more thing I can try," Felicity said, opening up a new document. She went to save it, and when she saw where the document would be saved, let out a happy, "Aha!"

"Is that good?"

"It is very good," Felicity said. She went into the downloads folder and found Thea's paper among the other documents and files. "You must have accidentally set your save default for new documents as downloads. So, when you searched for your paper in the documents, it literally wasn't there. But, we found it. So, no worries, you won't fail your class now. Unless, you know, it's bad. Which I'm sure it's not. I don't assume you write bad papers. I…" Felicity trailed off, shaking her head. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Thea shook her head, picking her laptop up from the desk. "Nope. Thanks again, Felicity. You are a total life saver."

Felicity smiled brightly. "I do my best. Good luck on that paper."

Thea slipped out of the office and her coworker Roger, one desk over, said, "And Felicity Smoak saves the day again."

"Ha, yeah, one lost document at a time," she returned. The office quiet, she opened up the internet browser and loaded up Facebook. She knew it was technically against the school's code to be going on a social networking site, but she figured that since there was nothing else for her to do she probably had a free pass. She'd already finished up the projects she'd been assigned for the month, even throwing in a free upgrade of the network's firewall on a particularly slow afternoon.

She ended up on his profile without really even thinking about it. Checking up on him was one of those things she just did. She inwardly argued to herself that it wasn't because she was hung up on him, but when she spotted the new blonde in his profile picture, there was an unmistakable ache in her chest.

Matt. Her ex-boyfriend. Her only ex-boyfriend. He was the person that made her feel special and loved, and everything was perfect until he decided one day that he was done. He didn't even really give her a reason. It was just, thank you, we're done here, not much to say. Just like that.

She closed the page quickly, not wanting to get upset at work. After a shaky breath she went into the computer's network, set on distracting herself. The firewall could always use another update.

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A week later, Felicity was at her desk again, embarking on a morning game of Tetris. She was losing terribly when Thea walked in, mouth pulled in a wide grin that suggested perhaps she was there on non-technological-business.

"Hi Thea," Felicity said, offering her a small grin.

"Hey Felicity, so, I got that paper back that you totally saved from my computer. And I got an A."

Felicity shot her a genuine grin then and said, "That's amazing, Thea. I'm glad we found it."

"Yeah, me too. Anyway, my brother's club is having its grand opening party tonight. It's invitation only, but, I just so happen to have two tickets for you."

"You what?" Felicity stammered.

Thea reached into her purse and pulled out two silver wristbands. "You just need to wear these to get in the door, and then you can take them off."

"You didn't have to do this," Felicity mumbled, thinking to herself that she wished she hadn't. She was the type of person who could never turn down a gift, and she had a feeling Thea would find out if she ditched.

"I know, but I wanted to," Thea chirped. "You're always saving my butt in here. This is my way of saying thank you."

"Well, um, you're welcome," Felicity said, eyes actively avoiding the metallic wristbands now on her desk. "And thank you for the invitation. I…I'll be there. Yes. I will be there."

Thea beamed. "Great! I'll tell my brother to look out for you."

Felicity nodded, reaching up and readjusting her glasses. Thea flounced out of the office and Felicity slumped in her seat.

"You don't seem like the club type," Roger noted.

"Yeah, that would be because I'm not."

"I can go with you," Roger offered. "Power in numbers, right?"

Felicity glanced over at him and his wrinkled button up shirt, a stain from his jelly donut on the collar.

"Meet there at nine?"

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Felicity didn't really know what proper club attire was, but she figured that the shorter the hem, the more club-attire-appropriate. She went with a dress that she'd shoved in the back of the closet after it shrunk in the dryer. She felt it was a little too short, and a little too tight, but she reasoned to herself as she stepped out of the cab, tugging at the hem, that her discomfort likely meant it was perfect for the night.

She spotted Roger over at the edge of the building and waved. When she reached him she pulled his wristband out of her purse and handed it to him. Roger put it on, eyeing the trendy crowd edging into the club warily.

"Is it just me, or does everyone walking into this club look more attractive and more successful than us?"

"Nope. Definitely not just you." Felicity paused. "What are the odds Thea would find out if I ditch right now?"

"The real question is how well can you make up a story about tonight when she comes in Monday and asks about it?"

Felicity frowned. "Can't I just google what happens at a club?"

"Aren't you supposed to meet her brother, too?"

"Then there's no way out of this," Felicity said with finality. She squared her shoulders. "We have to go in."

Felcity headed toward the entrance and Roger said behind her, "You do realize you're forcing yourself to go to a club because you were afraid to say no to a high schooler."

Not turning around, Felicity retorted, "Yes, I am well aware of that."

They showed their wristbands to the bouncer and walked into the club. Felicity's eyes adjusted to the darkness as her ears strained to hear whatever Roger was yelling in her direction over the pulsating music.

"What?" she yelled.

Roger yelled again, voice still drowned out by the loud music.

"I can't hear you!" she yelled, pointing to her ear and shaking her head. Roger shrugged and he pointed toward the bar. She nodded, and they made their way toward the crowded bar. It was surrounded by girls in tight dresses with Kardashian hair, and men in perfectly fitted suits. Roger edged his way to the front, beckoning for Felicity to follow him. It was then that a hand landed on her arm and she heard someone say, "Hey!"

She turned around, eyes widening when she saw the guy from the coffee shop in front of her. He grinned a bit and said, "I thought it was you. The computer girl."

"Um, yeah," she stammered. "That's me. Computer girl. I mean – that's not my name. Obviously. But…" she trailed off, swallowing hard. "Hi."

He laughed, the sound warm and rich. "I figured that wasn't your name. Thank you for your help, by the way."

"You're welcome," she said crisply. "I'm a very helpful person."

He laughed again. "I can tell. I'm Oliver, by the way. I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself properly at the coffee shop."

He held out his hand and she grasped it lightly, shaking his hand as she said, "I'm Felicity."

His brow furrowed for a moment and he asked, "Hold on, are you Felicity Smoak?"

Felicity blinked rapidly. "Yeah, I am."

He grinned wide and said, "I can't believe it. My sister Thea told me about you."

Felicity's eyes widened as it all came together. "You're Oliver Queen?"

He nodded. "Born and bred. My sister has told me a lot about you. Apparently you are her saving grace in that school."

Felicity blushed. "Oh, well, I don't do that much. I just, you know, help her get into her email. Fix formatting on papers. That sort of thing."

"Well, regardless, my sister has a very high opinion of you. After your help in the coffee shop, I'm inclined to agree with her."

Felicity smiled a bit, glancing to the side. "Anyway, so, you own this place?" she asked, gaze returning to him. "It's pretty amazing."

"Thank you. Yes, I own it with my friend Tommy Merlin. Both of us were looking for a way to put our trust funds to good use."

"And you decided to make a club," Felicity said, thinking to herself that if she had all that money, opening a club probably wouldn't be the first thing she'd go and spend it on. She realized a beat later that these thoughts had tinged her voice with a tone of disapproval, and she quickly said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to - a club is a great way to spend your money."

"Your reaction was much like my family's," Oliver returned easily. "But, Tommy and I figured we'd go into business with what we know best. I'm not ashamed to say we had some good times growing up. And that's come in handy building this place."

"Well, you're surely not short on people," Felicity said, taking stock of the large crowd just about everywhere in the club. "This place is packed."

Oliver nodded. He glanced down at her hands and noted, "You don't have a drink."

"Oh," she glanced back at the bar, searching for Roger. He was nowhere to be seen. "I think that –"

"Come on, I'll get you one."

He wove his way through the crowd and she followed, stumbling a bit over her heels as she tried to keep up. He easily made his way to the front of the bar, but her trip was not as seamless. The crowds seemed to part for Oliver Queen, but she was left tapping shoulders and murmuring excuse me as she pushed her way after him. But she caught up with him. He leaned casually against the bar and said, "I thought I lost you there for a moment."

"Me too," she said, reaching up and readjusting her glasses. "So, what's good here?"

"Well, that depends. What do you like to drink?"

Felicity shrugged. "I don't really drink that much. But not vodka. I had a very bad vodka experience in college."

It was the one time she'd gone out in college, and it was the only one. She'd downed more raspberry vodka shots than she could even remember, and she spent the entire next day vomiting.

Oliver smirked. "Okay, no vodka. What about whiskey?"

"I have no strong feelings on it," she told him crisply. He laughed, nodding as he turned back toward the bar and said, "I know just what to get you."

She heard him order a pumpkin-basil-whiskey-sour, and when she asked him what it was he told her, "It's sweet. You'll like it."

A few minutes later there was a drink pressed in her hand and she took an experimental sip. It was surprisingly good, and she met Oliver's expectant gaze, nodding approvingly.

"This is really good."

"I knew it," he said with a grin. "I'm usually pretty good at calling what drinks people will like."

"Felicity, there you are," Roger said, appearing at her side. She felt an unmistakable sense of disappointment settle on her. "I thought I lost you."

"Roger, this is Thea's brother Oliver," Felicity said, gesturing toward Oliver.

"Oh, hey, I'm Roger Silverman," Roger said, shaking Oliver's hand. "You've got a great place here. It's, um, really bouncing."

Oliver smirked. "Thank you. I appreciate you thinking it's…bouncing. So, are you two…" he gestured between Roger and Felicity, and she quickly shook her head and blurted, "No, we work together. At the school. We're in the IT department together."

Oliver nodded, taking a sip of his drink. His gaze lingered on Felicity and she felt her stomach twist.

"Well, it was great meeting you guys," Oliver said after a beat, pulling away from the bar. "If you need anything, just find me, okay?"

Felicity nodded. "We will, thanks."

"You guys enjoy the rest of your night."

Felicty watched him walk away and disappear in the crowd.

"So, what now?" Roger asked, sipping his beer.

"We dance?" Felicity said uncertainly. That seemed like what most of the people were doing.

"Do you actually want to dance?"

"No," Felicity answered immediately.

Roger laughed. "I think if we finish our drinks you'll have satisfied your obligation to be here tonight. How about that?"

Felicity grinned wide. "Roger, I like the way you think."

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Both of them finished their drinks in roughly fifteen minutes and then they were happily edging their way through the crowd. They walked out the front door and there was a burst of crisp fresh air. Felicity breathed in deep.

"Well, that is something I don't care to ever do again," Felicity said, turning toward Roger. "Thanks for being my plus one."

"It was my pleasure. I'll see you Monday?"

She nodded. "Yeah. See you Monday."

She turned and began to walk toward her car. She was parked at the far edge of the parking lot. She'd made sure to park under one of the light posts, figuring sh'd be leaving the club late.

"Felicity?"

She turned around and Oliver Queen was walking toward her. He had been talking on his cell phone, and he murmured something into it before hanging up.

"You're leaving already?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, grasping the strap of her purse. "I was up really early today."

"Okay," he said slowly, unconvinced. "You know, you can tell me if you don't like clubs. I won't be offended."

She laughed at that, something in her chest releasing. "It really is nice inside. It's just…I'm not exactly your target demographic."

"Well, you are welcome all the same. Have a safe drive home."

Felicity nodded. "I will."

She began to turn back toward the parking lot, but stopped and said, "Hey, do you mind not telling your sister that we left so early?"

Oliver looked at her in mock confusion and said, "What do you mean you left early? You guys stayed until close."

She smiled softly. "Thank you."

Oliver nodded, mirroring her grin. "I'll see you around, Felicity."

He headed back into the club and Felicity murmured, "Yeah. I'll see you around."

A/N: LET ME KNOW IF YOU'D LIKE TO SEE MORE OF THIS!!!!!


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the reviews and kudos! Y'all make me very happy :D

"I'm going with lunch," Felicity said, swiveling in her chair to face Roger. "Yep. Definitely lunch time."

"That's what – " Roger looked down at his watch " – three hours? No way. I give it one hour tops."

Felicity laughed. "You know, this is a school. With classes. Classes that, coincidentally, the students actually have to attend."

"And this is Thea Queen we are talking about."

"I'm still going to give her the benefit of the doubt and say lunch time."

"Alright," Roger said, picking up his coffee and taking a large gulp. "We'll see who's right. If you are, I will bring in cupcakes tomorrow."

"From Cream and Flutter," Felicity added.

He grinned. "I know better than to try to bring in cupcakes from anywhere else. And, if I win – which, spoiler alert, I will – you clean my keyboard."

Felicity scrunched her nose, well aware of the state of his keyboard. "I'm going to have to get gloves and a surgical mask to deal with that thing."

"Hey, whatever you need to get the job done," Roger said, grinning over the rim of his coffee cup.

"Fine, it's a deal," Felicity said resolutely. "If I win, cupcakes from Cream and Flutter. If you win, I will clean your keyboard."

Roger grinned, leaning back in his seat. "Man, my keyboard is going to get so clean."

"Yeah, yeah, keep your pants on. The hour isn't up yet."

"Speaking of people keeping their pants on," Roger said leadingly. "I saw you and Oliver Queen making nice outside the club Friday night."

"Were you checking up on me?" she asked with narrowed eyes.

He laughed and replied, "No, I just heard your voice and thought maybe you had forgotten something. But then I looked back and you were all moon-eyed by Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome."

"Okay, first off, I was not even remotely moon-eyed. I don't even know what that means."

Roger smirked. "Well, I'll tell you. It was your face around Thea's brother."

She waved her hand at him dismissively. "Plus, he is not Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome. He's blonde."

Roger laughed heartily, shaking his head. "Anyway, is something happening there. Because if something is, that means Thea will be coming in here more and I'll have to hide my candy jar. She always takes my mini kit kats."

Felicity rolled her eyes. "There's nothing going on. Oliver Queen and I are like…different species. It's just – no. Nothing is happening. Nor will it ever happen."

Roger pressed his lips together in bemusement and then murmured, "I think the lady doth protest too much."

"Oh, shut up," Felicity muttered. "Don't you have work to do?"

"Yeah," he returned easily. "But this is more fun."

She scowled, turning her attention back to her computer screen. There was definitely nothing going on with Oliver Queen. She barely knew him. And if she did know him better, he would never be interested in someone like her. She remembered that brunette he'd been with at the coffee shop. The girl had been all long legs and draped fabric. She could never compete with girls like that.

Not that she wanted to compete with them. Because she didn't. Oliver Queen was so out of her stratosphere that she didn't even think of him like that. Sure, he had been really nice at the club, and she liked how the edges of his eyes sort of crinkled when he laughed. But she so did not think of him romantically. Nope. Not one bit.

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Thea stopped in exactly forty five minutes after Felicity and Roger set their bet. Felicity hid her disappointment as she plastered on her professional smile and greeted the younger Queen.

"Hi Felicity. What's up?"

"I told my teacher I was having computer issues, but that was just so I could get down here and ask you about Friday!"

"You know, you could have just waited until your lunch or free period," Felicity told her. The twenty or so minutes her and Roger spent at Verdant were not nearly exciting enough to warrant Thea missing class.

"Why wait until then when I can be here now?" Thea asked brightly, apparently unfazed by the fact that she was technically cutting class. She slid her book bag off her shoulder and plopped down on the seat in front of Felicity's desk.

"Tell me about Friday!" Thea prodded. "My brother told me he met you."

"Yeah, we met," Felicity said quickly. "He was, um, very nice. I liked him a lot."

"He liked you, too. He couldn't stop talking about you!"

"Is that so?" Roger piped in from his desk, sending Felicity a satisfied grin. She shot him a look and said, "Oh, was he telling you about the coffee shop?"

Thea nodded. "Small world, huh?"

"Yep," Felicity said. "The absolute smallest. Thanks for the tickets, by the way. Roger and I had a great time."

"I heard! Oliver told me you guys stayed until closing!"

"We did, didn't we?" Roger said with feigned dawning realization. "You know, we had such a great time, I can barely remember it."

Felicity shot him another look.

"I would have never pegged you guys as big partiers," Thea said with a wide grin. "But I guess you never know! Just so you know, you're totally hooked up now for all the big parties at Verdant. I already got you guys on the list for the Neon Party next week!"

Felicity grinned so wide it was painful. "Wow…that's just...thanks. We're, um, really lucky to have you on our side like that."

Thea beamed, standing up. "It's no biggie. What's the point of having a brother who owns a big club if you can't pull a couple strings? Anyway, I have to get back to class."

She wiggled her fingers in a quick goodbye wave as she slipped out of the IT department. Felicity groaned, leaning forward and putting her head on the desk.

"You okay over there, Smoak?" Roger said.

Felicity straightened up and pushed her glasses further up her nose. "A Neon Party?"

Roger snorted. "Yeah, I'm not going to that one with you."

"What even is a Neon Party?"

"I'm assuming it has something to do with neon colors," Roger said slowly. "But, you know, that's just a guess."

"I own nothing neon colored. I don't want to own anything neon colored," Felicity lamented.

"You know, you're not obligated to go to every party a high schooler gets you invited to."

"I know," Felicity said stubbornly. She straightened in her seat and said, "Yes, I know. I'm an adult. I can say no to things."

"Exactly. Just say no. Tell her that you're not really into the whole club scene." He looked at her bright cardigan and square-framed glasses. "Believe me, it won't come as a shock to her."

She saw what he was hinting at and threw a balled up piece of paper at him from her desk.

"Hey! I'm not saying you have a bad look! It's just more knitting club than club, club."

"Like you're any different," she returned.

"Oh, I'm not. I would love a knitting club."

She snorted beside her mild irritation and shook her head, returning to work.

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Felicity's workday ended at five o'clock and she didn't waste any time before heading out to her car. She'd put off grocery shopping for the week and currently had nothing besides some saltine crackers and a spoiled carton of milk in her refrigerator. She walked out to her car, a small white Prius, and opened the door. She slipped in and dug her car key out of her purse.

She slid the key into the ignition and turned it, the engine whining but not turning over. She frowned, trying it again. Still, the car refused to start. She tried one more time and then sighed, throwing her key into her purse and climbing out of the car. Roger was still inside. Maybe he could give her a ride. She was heading to the school when a yellow Ferrari with tinted windows stopped beside her. She paid it a cursory glanced but stopped when the driver's window came down and Oliver's face was there.

"Hey, you need a ride?" he asked.

"What are you doing here?" she stammered, heart slamming against her chest.

"I thought I was picking Thea up after some group project thing. But she got a ride from a friend. Which means, I just so happen to have an empty passenger seat right now."

"I probably don't live anywhere near you," Felicity said immediately. She only lived a few minutes away from Roger.

"It's fine," Oliver said.

"You really don't mind? Because I don't want to get in the way of any plans you might have, or –"

"Felicity," he interrupted, slight grin on his face. "Would you please just get in the car?"

She nodded quickly, mumbling thank you as she walked around the car and got in on the passenger side. The car smelled of leather and his cologne.

"Where do you live?" Oliver asked, pulling out of the parking lot.

"Randall and Peabody," Felicity said. When Oliver didn't say anything she glanced over at him and said, "You know where that is, right?"

"Yeah, it's by the old train station, right?"

She nodded. "Yeah, it's a community center now. I play chess there sometimes."

He smirked. "You do?"

She nodded again. "Yeah. But the guys don't like when I play because I always win."

Oliver laughed. "They sound like sore losers. So, do you usually take the bus home?"

"No," Felicity said, eyes roving over the car's dashboard. There seemed to be endless number of buttons and she wanted to push every single one and see what they did. "My car stalled."

"Oh shit," Oliver said, glancing at her. "I'm sorry. Do you need anything then?"

"Huh?"

"Well, since you won't have a car for a bit it might be difficult for you to run errands," he said. "Do you need us to stop anywhere?"

"Oh no, I'm fine," she said quickly.

"Are you sure?" he said, glancing at her again. "Because I'm happy to stop. I've got nothing else to do tonight."

She thought of her empty pantry and refrigerator. Sure, she could order takeout for dinner, but what would she do for breakfast? Mushu pork at seven in the morning wasn't exactly appetizing.

"Any chance we can stop at a grocery store?" she finally asked.

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"You eat plain corn flakes?" Oliver said, picking up the box of cereal she'd just thrown in the cart and glancing at the back of the box.

"Yeah, why?" she asked, attention on the cereal boxes lined in front of her as she tried to decide whether or not to buy another box. It was on sale for two dollars, but she usually didn't buy more than she needed.

"It's just so boring," he said.

"I add fruit and sugar," she told him. She decided to get another box and threw it in.

"I like more exciting cereals," he said, pushing the cart as they walked down the aisle.

"Yeah, like what?"

"Cocoa puffs," he began, ticking the cereals off with a tap of his finger against the cart. "Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Frosted Cheerios. Cookie Crisp. They discontinued that one, but it was the best."

She smirked. "No offense, Oliver, but you have the cereal taste of an eight year old."

He laughed. "That might be true, but it does not detract from the fact that those cereal are delicious."

"And nutritionally devoid," she argued. "Not to mention they'll rot your teeth. You're going to need a partial by the time you're forty."

They continued walking through the grocery store, Felicity trying to recall everything on the grocery list currently sitting on her kitchen table. She remembered frozen broccoli was on there and they wandered toward the frozen food aisle. They walked past frozen dinners and Oliver gestured toward the case filled with Kid Cuisines as they passed it.

"I always wanted to eat those as a kid," he said.

"Kid Cuisines?" she asked, looking up at him. He nodded, grinning.

'Yeah," he said. "When I was little I always had these fancy meals with my family with fancy food that no kid in their right mind likes. We'd have things like liver and escargot."

"That doesn't even sound good now," Felicity said, scrunching her nose.

"My friend Tommy used to have a whole stock of those Kid Cuisines in his freezer," Oliver said. He laughed a bit and said, "He made a deal with one of the housekeepers. He wouldn't tell his parents that she was filching liquor if she bought him the dinners."

"That deal seems a bit imbalanced. I'm sure the liquor cost way more than those dinners."

"True, but Tommy was happy with the whole arrangement."

"You know what, let's turn this cart around," Felicity said, stopping suddenly and messily turning the cart around. Oliver followed, asking what she was doing until they stopped in front of the Kid Cuisine case.

"Take your pick," Felicity said, gesturing toward the case. "It's my treat."

"I always did want to try the corn dog one," Oliver mused.

"Well, come on, don't stand on ceremony. Put it in the cart."

He grinned and reached forward, swinging the door open. He pulled out a corn dog Kid Cuisine and put it in the cart.

"You might as well get another," she told him. He glanced back at her and she added, "They are two for five dollars, after all."

He grinned. "Alright."

He threw the second Kid Cuisine in (he chose the dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets) and they continued down toward the frozen vegetables. Felicity got her frozen broccoli and then they checked out. She helped him load the groceries into the trunk, and then they were headed to her apartment.

"So, what exactly does a club owner do?" she asked, glancing at him as they drove through the city. "I mean, I'm sure you do a lot. You run the place, after all."

"It is a lot of work," he said. "On the back end we're dealing with liquor distributors and food distributors. We're making sure the club is in working order, keeping our licenses and permits up to date."

"That does sound like a lot of work."

He nodded. "And then, it's a lot of getting to know people. Clubs work on word of mouth. You want people to have a good time and then tell their friend. That friend then tells another friend, and another, and so on."

"You seemed to have a good turnout on Friday."

Oliver nodded. "We had a good launch, and now we're just trying to keep that energy and excitement."

"Well, I hope you do," Felicity told him earnestly.

He grinned. "Will I see you there again? Thea insisted I put you and your friend Roger on the list for the Neon Party."

Felicity blushed. "Yeah, about that…"

He laughed. "Don't worry, I don't actually expect you to show up."

"It's not Verdant, it's just-"

"I know, clubs aren't really your thing," he said, glancing at her with a small grin. "I remember. But, of course, if you change your mind we'd be happy to have you."

"Well, thank you. But I probably will be making good friends with my couch again that night."

"Ah, I see. Those do sound like some pretty great plans."

"They are. And they don't require makeup or even pants."

He laughed. "Is that your standard for a good night? No makeup or pants?"

Felicity considered it for a moment and said, "It's pretty close."

They pulled up to her apartment and Oliver parked. He insisted on helping her with the groceries, and her hand shook slightly as she turned her key in the front door. In a matter of twenty-four hours she'd gone from thinking she'd probably never see him again to being in his car and having him in her apartment.

"You can just put them on the kitchen table," she said, closing the door behind him. She was relieved that she'd straightened up a bit before she left for work that morning. It still wasn't exactly tidy, but there were no bras hanging off of anything, and she considered that a minor victory.

"Well, I think we got all of the groceries," Oliver said, stepping away from the table.

"Yeah, we did," she said, nodding. "Thank you so much for driving me and stopping at the grocery store. I really appreciate it."

"It was no problem," he told her. "Do you need a ride to work tomorrow?"

"Oh no," she said shaking her head. "I'll have Roger take me. He only lives a few minutes from here."

"Okay, well, then I guess I will just see you later."

She nodded. "Yeah. Thanks again. You were very helpful."

"Well, I'm a very helpful person."

She grinned at the echo of their conversation from the club. "Goodnight, Oliver."

She stepped forward and opened the door for him. Before she could watch him walk down the stairs she closed the door and rested her forehead against it lightly. After a beat she pulled away and turned back into the apartment to put away her groceries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked all that Felicity x Oliver action! I also hope you enjoyed the hefty dose of Roger. Because I love my original character.
> 
> I am loving all the kudos (seriously - you guys are amazing) but please, please leave reviews. I really appreciate feedback and it helps me make the story better. So, chime in with your thoughts - good or bad!


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the wonderful feedback on the last chapter! You guys rock! Quick note on this chapter - please assume it is winter. And that's all! Happy reading!

Felicity showed up at her usual coffee place, phone wedged between her shoulder and ear as she spoke with the gruff mechanic from her car's dealership. She'd had it towed to the dealership the day before, and now they were telling her that there was nothing wrong with the car.

"I don't understand how my car can stall and you say there's nothing wrong with it," Felicity said. "My car stalled. I would consider that something wrong."

"We had some pretty cold weather a few days back," the guy said. "It could have just been that."

Felicity sighed, taking her place in the unusually long line for coffee. It was as if all of Starling City had decided to show up the one afternoon where she was tired, stressed, and cranky.

"Alright, um, you're sure you checked everything?" she said.

"We checked everything."

"Can you check it again?"

"Yeah, we can check it again but I can't promise you we'll find anything."

"That's fine," she said wearily, moving forward with the line. "Just check it again, and then we'll go from there."

"Alright. I'll have one of my guys call you when we're finished. It probably won't be until tomorrow, we're pretty backed up here."

"That's fine. Thank you for your help."

Felicity pulled the phone from her ear and disconnected the call. She supposed it was a good thing that there was nothing wrong with her car. She wasn't exactly buying the whole the-cold-broke-your-car spiel, but she reasoned that having one less problem on her plate wasn't something for which she should complain.

The line moved forward, and just the prospect of coffee in the near future made her caffeine headache abate. Biding her time in line, she glanced around casually, taking stock of who was in the shop. Her gaze lingered on the back of a familiar blonde male. Oliver sat by himself at the same table he'd been in the afternoon they met. He was writing in some small book, shoulders hunched forward and head down.

"You can move forward," someone murmured behind her and Felicity scurried forward, tossing a quick apology over her shoulder. When she reached the counter she ordered her usual black coffee and then walked to her table. Just as she was debating the best way to say hi to Oliver he glanced up from his small notebook and chose the greeting for her.

"Felicity, hi."

"Hi Oliver," she said, hand grasping the coffee mug tightly.

"Do you care to join me?" he asked, gesturing to the empty seat across from him.

"Oh, I don't want to get in the way of whatever you're doing," she said.

"Nonsense. You're not getting in the way of anything. Sit down, please."

She nodded, smiling slightly as she settled in the seat across from him and placed her coffee on the table. Her black coffee looked drab compared to whatever concoction he'd gotten himself. It was in a mug twice the size of hers, and was topped with whipped cream and chocolate shavings.

"That's one serious drink you have there," she noted.

He laughed and told her, "I need it after last night."

"Oh, right, the neon party," she said, nodding. "That was last night, wasn't it? So, how was it?"

"Good," he said. "We filled the place. But it went a bit long for my liking. "

"Really?"

"It turns out overseeing a party is not nearly as fun as purely partaking in one."

"You know, I have heard that."

"But, it was a success, and that's what matters. I'm hoping once we get a steady crowd I can take a few weekends off. All the up-until-four-am nights are killing me."

"I'm an in-bed-by-eleven girl myself," Felicity returned. "Gotta get my beauty sleep. Not that I'm insinuating you don't get your beauty sleep. You're still very beautiful. Or, you know, the manly version of that."

He smirked. "Well, thanks."

"Anyway," Felicity said loudly, wanting to change the subject to anything that would keep her from inadvertently calling him beautiful again. She thought of their little trip to the grocery store and asked, "Have you gotten around to trying those Kid Cuisines yet?"

"I did, actually."

"And? What's the verdict?"

Felicity took a sip of her coffee, and Oliver laughed as he admitted, "They were pretty gross."

Felicity put her coffee cup down. "Really?"

"Yeah, the corn dog was all gummy."

"Gross. How about the chicken nuggets?"

"I haven't tried them yet," he said. "The corn dog sort of put me off Kid Cuisines for at least a little bit."

"Well, that's a bummer," she said. "I'm sorry they were not the gastronomic gem you were hoping for."

Oliver smirked. "It's okay. There are worse things in life. Hey, did you ever get the stuff with your car figured out?"

Felicity was mid sip and clunkily put her mug down as she told him, "That's a work in progress right now."

"Why, what happened?"

"I took it to the dealer and –"

"You took it to the dealer?" Oliver interrupted, voice tinged with disbelief. She looked at him strangely, not quite understanding why the interruption or tone was necessary, and said, "Yeah, I took it to the dealer."

"You know they rip you off there, right?"

He said that like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Which, she thought to herself, it wasn't. She considered herself a fairly knowledge person and for her the first logical place to take your car when it had issues was the dealership.

"No, I actually didn't know that."

"Yeah, they always mark up their prices. I should have given you the number of the guy I use. Really reasonable prices and great service."

"The dealer can't be that much more than other places," Felicity reasoned. "I mean, then people would never go to the dealer. They'd be out business."

"I don't know what it is with girls and taking their cars to the dealer. My girlfriend does the same thing."

Felicity stiffened. What had he just said? Because she was pretty sure that he mentioned a girlfriend, but for all the time they'd spent together – which, in his defense, was not an exceedingly large amount of time, but still enough for at least a casual mention – she'd heard squat about a girlfriend. But his words were still ringing in her ears, and they had only one meaning. There was a girlfriend. One who took her car to the dealer, and probably was gorgeous and had legs like the Eiffel tower. She thought of the girl before, the brunette, and wondered if it was her.

Oliver must have asked her something, because he was looking at her expectantly, and she realized that she had no idea what he said, too distracted by the inner monologue playing in her head.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Did they say what was wrong with your car?"

"Oh, the cold. They said that's why it wouldn't start,"

Oliver snorted, shaking his head. "The cold did it, huh? And they'll go ahead and charge you three hundred dollars for that brilliant diagnosis."

Felicity knew he was joking, but she couldn't find it in her to smile.

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The weekend went by quickly, and before Felicity knew it she was back at her desk at work, playing another mind numbing game of Tetris. At least she had a donut. Roger drove her in, like he had every morning since her car stalled, and they'd stopped on their way at the local donut place. She mildly regretted getting a powdered one, though, as its remnants were all over her royal purple skirt. It was one of her newer skirts, and she'd paired it with a silk cream button up with dainty pearlized buttons at the cuffs. Even Roger had been impressed when she shrugged out of her puffy winter coat.

"You clean up well, Smoak," he had said, draping his own winter coat over the back of his desk chair.

The morning was its typical slow pace, only a few students trickling in with minor issues. Felicity was halfway through her fifth game of Tetris when her email pinged with a new message. She clicked over and was surprised to see a message from Thea Queen. Wasn't she supposed to be in class right now?

She clicked on the message and nearly laughed aloud when an e-vite to Thea's 18th Birthday Part popped up.

"You are not going to believe what I just got in my inbox."

"Another coupon from Big Belly Burger?" Roger asked, eyes not leaving his computer screen. "You do eat there a ridiculous amount."

She gave him a look and said, "No, I got an invitation to Thea's 18th Birthday Party. How did she even find my email address?"

"Don't you give it out for IT emergencies or something?"

"Yeah, my work one but not my personal one."

"Huh. I wonder where my invitation is. Must have gotten lost in the interwebs," Roger mused.

Felicity grinned. She scrolled through the invitation, reading all of the information.

"The party is at the Queen mansion," she said. "I've always wanted to see the inside of that house."

"It probably looks just like every other rich person house. Suits of armor. Antiques. Fancy chairs you can't sit on."

Felicity snorted. "I like how you just assume every wealthy family has a suit of armor.

"It's because they do, Felicity," he said slowly. "They do."

"Well, it doesn't really matter," she said, deleting the invitation. "I'm not going."

"Why the hell not?" Roger asked.

"Um, because Thea is a student here. It'd be inappropriate."

"No it's not," Roger said, waving his hand dismissively. "Besides, you didn't think it was inappropriate to go to that club opening."

'That was different," Felicity argued.

"How? Tell me how it's different?"

Felicity kept quiet. What was different is that she knew Oliver had a girlfriend now, and she wasn't really too keen on being around him. She knew it wasn't his fault that he had a girlfriend. And it definitely wasn't something she should hold against him, but she felt a little awkward about all the time they'd spent together. She was moderately sure she hadn't thrown herself at him at any point in those few hours, but what if she had? What if she did do something, and he just humored her along? The thought alone made her palms itch.

"Hey, can you take me to the dealer this afternoon to pick up my car?" Felicity asked. "They said it should be ready by then."

"Yeah sure," Roger said. "I still can't believe you took your car to the dealer. They totally rip you off there."

Felicity shook her head. "That's what Oliver said."

"Oh really?" Roger said, baiting her. "Is that what Oliver said?"

She shot him a look and said, "Yes. That what he said. Right before he mentioned his girlfriend."

"You're shitting me. He has a girlfriend?"

Felicity nodded a bit more emphatically than was probably necessary. "Yep. He does. So, you can just go ahead and stop all your weird fantasies about us right now, buddy. Because they're not happening."

"Well, shit, I'm sorry," Roger said.

"It's fine," she said dismissively. "I don't care. I mean, I never actually thought…" she trailed off because she did, in fact, think things. She thought a lot of things, but the only thing that mattered then was that he had a girlfriend, and that was that.

Both her and Roger fell silent as they got back into their individual tasks. He did whatever he had been doing, and she went back to her Tetris game. She slipped up on an easy shape and said, "Don't you think it's a little weird he didn't tell me until now?"

"I thought you didn't care."

"I don't," she held loftily. A silence stretched between them and she said, "But-"

"Look, sometimes guys are dicks. It happens."

Her stomach twisted uncomfortably at that, and she murmured, "He's not like that, though."

Roger shrugged. "He kind of seems like that right now."

He saw her disgruntlement at what he'd said, and he added, "That's just my opinion, though. You're free to think whatever you want."

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Felicity should have known better than to think the e-vite would be the last she heard about the birthday party. Thea visited several times, making sure she'd gotten the invitation and then following it up with a spirited conversation of who was catering and who was DJ-ing. Felicity never knew just how many "-ing" things there were for a party, but Thea seemed to address them all. On the fourth visit she realized Roger had never been invited, and promptly invited him on the spot.

"Gee, a personal invitation from Thea Queen herself," Roger said sarcastically. "I feel so special."

Felicity gave him a look, and quickly G-chatted him, "Be nice."

"I told Oliver you're coming, by the way," Thea said to Felicity with a wide grin. "It's so weird you guys are friends now. But anyway, I made him promise to introduce you to all the cool people there."

"You told Oliver I'm going to your party?" Felicity stammered.

"Well, yeah," Thea said, looking at her with wide, open eyes. "I mean, you are coming, right?"

Felicity swallowed hard. She didn't want to go to this party. She really didn't want to go to this party, but Thea Queen was standing there with those wide, bright eyes, she didn't have the heart to tell her no. So, she would say yes. And then promptly fake an illness that night. She heard there was a flu going around Starling. She was more than willing to catch it.

"Sure, Thea. I'll be there."

When Thea left the office some time later Roger said, "You're not really going to the party, are you?"

"Not a chance in hell."

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The night of Thea's birthday party, Felicity had settled in for a low-key night of wine, boxed mac and cheese, and her favorite TLC shows. She put on her comfiest flannel pajamas and piled her hair into a messy bun on top of her head. Halfway through Say Yes To The Dress she was similarly halfway through her pint of Chubby Hubby ice cream, and feeling pretty great about her night. There was still half a bottle of wine left, and if she played her cards right she'd be in bed by eleven.

And then there was a knock on her door.

"What in the…" she murmured, pulling herself from her pile of blankets and opening the door. Roger stood in her doorway, cheeks ruddy from the cold. He was wearing his nicer pea coat, and she saw actual slacks peaking out from the bottom of the coat.

"Roger, what are you doing here? And why are you wearing nice pants?"

"This is more pathetic than I thought it would be," he said, gaze over her shoulder. He shook his head and walked past her into the apartment.

Felicity turned into the apartment, watching him stride toward the television, and said, "Hey, I didn't –"

"TLC?" Roger said, turning toward her in outrage. "Really, Felicity?"

"Everyone is entitled to have their guilty pleasure shows," she grumbled.

"Okay, this is just depressing." He reached down to the coffee table and picked up the remote, turning off the television. He turned toward Felicity, who was watching him warily from the doorway, and said, "Go get dressed, because you are going to this party."

Felicity blanched. "Roger-"

"Look, I know why you don't want to go," he said. "You feel weird about him having a girlfriend. But who cares. He's the one who should be uncomfortable here, not you. Besides, didn't you say you always wanted to see the Queen mansion?"

"Yeah," Felicity admitted.

"And I really want to see some drunk person try to make out with a suit of armor," he returned with feigned sincerity. "So, let's go hang out with some rich people."

She smiled a bit at that. People could say what they wanted about Roger Silverman, but he sure did know how to pull her out of a funk.

"Okay, fine, you win," she said. "Wait here."

She walked into her bedroom and closed the door. Passing the mirror, she saw her hair wound up on the top of her head and quickly released it from the hair tie, pleased to see that the tie had formed soft waves in her hair.

"Well, look at that," she said contently.

Her closet was the next thing to tackle and she decided not to think too much by picking the first dress that looked good. It was kelly green with a scoop neckline and flattering a-line skirt. It was the exact thing you'd wear to a mansion. She changed into the dress and added a white beaded necklace from her desk. Some dangly earrings and nude heels completed the look. A few swipes of makeup later she was out in the living room, Roger nodding his head approvingly.

"Alright, are you ready?"

"I'm going to need a drink the minute we get there."

Roger pulled a flask from the inner pocket of his jacket and gave it a jaunty tilt. "Already ahead of you, Smoak."

She took the flask from him and unscrewed the top before taking a quick hit. Wincing at the burning in her throat, she dragged the back of her hand over her mouth.

"Let's go."

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The Queen mansion was one of those places that everyone knew about, but few actually ventured inside. It sat far from the rest of the city in its own sort of seclusion that only years of wealth could buy. Roger and Felicity took a cab, and Felicity had to keep her jaw from dropping like someone out of a cartoon as the cab drove up the winding driveway. The mansion was strikingly beautiful up close, and she wondered what it must be like to actually call a place like it home.

The cab stopped and Roger pressed a twenty in the driver's palm before climbing out and opening Felicity's door. She took his outstretched hand and stepped out of the cab, head tipping back as she took in the house's architecture.

"Careful, Smoak. Tip your head back any further and you'll topple over," Roger teased.

She hit his arm and they headed up the sprawling front steps. There was a man up front collecting gifts and Felicity stopped suddenly, her cheeks flushing.

"Roger," she hissed, grabbing his arm. "I don't have a gift."

"Don't worry," he said, pulling an envelope out of the inner pocket of his jacket. "I have us covered."

"What did you get her?"

"A gift card to Big Belly Burger," he returned with a grin.

"You didn't," she breathed out, hand tightening on his arm. He winced and said, "Would you let go of my arm? You're cutting off my circulation."

"Sorry," she said in chagrin, dropping her hand. They moved forward and she said, "You didn't really get her a Big Belly Burger gift card, did you? I mean, she's a Queen. I wouldn't be surprised if they have a Big Belly Burger built in the house."

Roger snorted. "This is supposed to be from both of us, remember? And I thought your unnatural love of that place makes the gift perfect."

They passed the gift collector and Roger handed over the envelope with aplomb, laughing at the look of absolute consternation on Felicity's face.

"You know, maybe if I didn't have to show up at your apartment and literally drag you to this party you would have chosen your own gift," he suggested leadingly.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, exhaling loudly. "The gift is fine. I'm just a little jumpy."

She looked around the room, trying to see if the subject of her jumpiness was anywhere to be seen. The interior of the Queen mansion was just as regal as the outside. It was all deep reds and wood paneling. At the center of the foyer was a large staircase that looked like it came straight from Gone With The Wind. It was on that sweeping staircase that she saw Oliver Queen and who she could only assume was his girlfriend. Her stomach squirmed uncomfortably, and she averted her gaze only to find something even more uncomfortable than Oliver and his girlfriend.

"Oh my God," Felicity breathed out.

Roger spotted Oliver then and said, "How are his suits always so well cut? I should ask him who his tailor is."

"Probably someone you couldn't dream of affording," Felicity said hazily. "But it's not Oliver."

Roger glanced over at her in confusion. "What?"

"It's Matt."

"Wait, do you mean –"

"Yes," she interrupted, watching him walk around snapping pictures with his camera. She recognized the camera from their time together. It wasn't too long ago that she'd been his favorite subject.

"What is he doing here?" Roger asked.

"He must be covering the party for a newspaper or something," Felicity said, eyes following him as he moved around the room.

"Yeah, that's great," Roger said quickly, "Not to alarm you or anything, but Oliver is heading this way right now."

It was like a slow motion horror film, Oliver and the brunette making their way through the crowd toward Felicity and Roger. All she wanted to do was run, but they had already spotted them and the room wasn't exactly safe with her ex roaming around.

"Felicity, I heard you were coming tonight," Oliver said with a grin. "Thea couldn't stop talking about it. Thank you for coming."

"Oh, well, it's not every day someone turns eighteen," Felicity returned. "Well, I guess technically it is every day that someone turns eighteen. Because there are billions of people out there, and odds are one of them is turning eighteen. But it's not every day that Thea turns eighteen. Which…is what I meant in the first place."

"I love your dress," the brunette said. "Green is such a flattering color."

"Oh, um, thanks," Felicity said. There was a pause in the conversation, and when it appeared that no introductions were on the horizon, she said, "I'm assuming you're Oliver's girlfriend?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Where are my manners?" Oliver interjected hastily. "Felicity, Roger, this is my girlfriend Laurel."

"It's great to meet you," Felicity said. "Apparently we both take our car to the dealer."

Laurel laughed. "Did Ollie get on you for that, too?"

Felicity shifted uncomfortably in her heels. "Yes, he did. Um, Roger and I actually just got here, and we don't have drinks yet…"

"Oh, go and get your drinks," Oliver said. "We'll catch up more later."

"Yes, great," she said, already looking around for the bar. She spotted it over on the other side of the room and took Roger's arm, dragging him with her.

"Well, that was awkward," Roger said.

"I need the biggest glass of wine right now," she said. "Actually, what I really need is the biggest slice of chocolate cake, but I'm assuming they don't have that at the bar."

"Yeah, you're probably assuming right. Um, so, would you kill me if I had to run to the bathroom?"

Felicity glanced back at Roger, who looked supremely uncomfortable, and said, "No, of course not. I'm fine. Go to the bathroom. I'll meet you at the bar?"

"Yeah, sounds good. I'll meet you there."

Felicity made her way to the bar and then sidled up to the counter. She leaned forward a bit, trying to spot where the bartender was.

"Felicity?"

The sound of his voice made a shiver go down her spine and she turned slowly, bracing herself for the sight of him again. It hurt, anyway. She should have known that no amount of slow turning could prepare her for him being there, smiling the small smile that he'd always reserved for her.

"Matt, hi."

"You don't seem surprised," he noted with a grin.

"I actually saw you earlier," she told him. "Walking around with your camera."

"And you didn't say hi," he said, shaking his head. "I'm guessing that means you're still pissed at me?"

Felicity laughed humorlessly, turning to the bar and then back toward him. "You know what, if I weren't still pissed at you this interaction would make me pick up right where I left off."

He laughed – a genuine laugh – and said, "Man, I've missed you and your blunt tongue."

And just like that she deflated. His little smile was there again, and she was remembering what it was like to be with him. It had been nice. It had been easy. It had been him and her, and her and him, and she missed that.

"You really missed me?" she asked.

"Yeah," he returned. "You're one of a kind, Felicity Smoak. And, you know, I never got to apologize for what happened before. How things ended."

"Matt-"

"You had every right to be pissed. I was an ass."

"Yes," she said in small voice, nodding. "Yes, you were."

He laughed. "And I am very sorry for that."

She felt her skin warm and she gathered her hair in one hand, pushing it over her shoulder. His eyes travelled to the curve of her neck.

"So, you're the photographer tonight?" she asked.

"Yeah. I feel like a sell out, but I have to pay the bills."

It suddenly occurred to her that Matt wasn't currently taking any photos, and she said, "I'm not keeping you from your job, am I? Because I don't want to get you in trouble."

"Nah, it's fine," he said. "I'm on a short break. Actually, though, I'm at the end of a short break. I do have to get back to work soon."

"I understand," she told him with a small grin. The bartender came over and she turned to face the bar, telling the bartender that she wanted a glass of pinot noir. She heard the familiar sound of a shutter clicking and turned toward Matt, who continued snapping photos of her.

"Oh, this is a good one," he said, looking at the photo on the camera's digital screen. He showed it to her and she burst into laughter. The camera had caught her mid-turn and her features were blurred.

"You know, I think this is the best of the night," he told her. She laughed more and he said, "No, really. See, it's sort of artistic."

She shook her head. "Sort of artistic?"

"Well, you know me. I never like to say anything is definitively something."

Her laughter calmed down and she said, "No, you don't."

The bartender pushed her wine toward her on the bar and she took it gratefully, thanking him.

"Well, now that you have your drink I should get back to work. How late are you staying at this thing? Maybe we could get a drink after?"

Felicity hesitated for a moment and then said, "Yeah, I'd like that."

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An hour into the party Felicity and Roger went exploring. The house was even more beautiful than Felicity had imagined, and Roger found his suit of armor. Felicity's only complaint was the thermostat. She felt warm from the inside out, and not in a good way. Her and Roger ended up near what looked like a wine cellar when they heard voices.

"It's really important to Thea that you're here," a voice that Felicity instantly recognized as Oliver's said. Felicity glanced over at Roger with wide eyes and he nodded, telling her he recognized the voice, too.

"I wouldn't leave if I didn't have to," the second voice – Laurel – said.

"Do you, really?"

"Do I what?" Laurel said back.

"Do you really have to leave? I mean, come on Laurel. What work could you possibly have to do at ten o'clock at night?"

"Look, Oliver, I'm sorry I don't have a job that fits in a nice 9-5 box. Neither do you, might I add. Sometimes business comes up that I have to deal with. Why are you being like this?"

"Laurel, don't," Oliver said, voice strained.

"No, seriously, what's going on with you? You've been weird for weeks."

"Should we leave?" Felicity whispered, glancing back at the empty hallway where they came from. "I don't think we should be listening to this."

"Shh," Roger hissed. "We're getting some good information here."

"What?"

"Did you not hear that 'you've been weird for a few weeks' thing?"

She caught where he was going and hissed, "You can't be serious. It-"

He put his hand over her mouth, pulling her back against the wall as Laurel burst out of the room, stalking past them in such a fuming state that she didn't even notice them in the hallway. A few moments later Oliver walked out, and they weren't as lucky.

"What are you guys doing down here?" he asked, looking between them.

"Bathroom," Felicity blurted. She felt a bit lightheaded and grasped the chair beside her. "We were looking for the bathroom."

"Oh, well, it's not down here. Come on, I'll take you guys."

Oliver led them through the house, back to the party, in silence. They reached the bathroom and Roger quickly said, "Oh great, the bathroom. I'll meet you guys out there."

And then there were two. And then, with Thea's arrival, there were three. She threw her arms around Felicity and said, "I'm so happy you were able to make it! Are you having a good time?"

"I am, thanks for inviting me," Felicity said. She glanced over at Oliver, and he was staring listlessly at the crowd.

"No problem," Thea said. "Hey, I saw you talking to the photographer earlier."

Oliver's attention snapped back to the conversation.

"Oh, yeah, he's an old friend of mine. Actually, an old boyfriend."

"No way," Thea said. "Talk about small world. Do you know I found him because my mom does pilates with his fiancé?"

Felicity felt as if someone had pulled a very expensive Persian rug from under her feet. Her face grew hotter and she felt a thin sheen of sweat raise on her skin.

"His what?" she managed.

"His fiancé," Thea repeated, clearly not picking up on the turmoil currently descending on her IT friend. Oliver sensed it, though, and stepped toward Felicity.

"They're class buddies or whatever," Thea continued. "Mom mentioned the party and she was all, 'Oh, you should talk to my fiancé, he's-"

"Felicity, are you okay?" Oliver interrupted, gently touching her arm.

No, she wasn't. She definitely wasn't. The room had begun to spin, and her stomach was churning. It reminded her of when she'd get sick like a little girl. Her stomach would churn and her head would get all shifty just before -

"Bathroom," she stammered, clamping her hand to her mouth. Oliver took a hold of her arm and quickly pulled her through the crowd, Thea trailing behind them. She got to the bathroom and ran inside, emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet. When she was finished she rested her cheek on the toilet, head pounding.

It seemed not only did she meet Oliver's girlfriend and find out Matt was engaged. She also caught the Starling City flu.

She tried to pull herself up, but at that moment her stomach decided it wanted to be emptied again, and she dry heaved into the bowl. There were voices outside that she vaguely recognized, and then she heard one in particular.

"Is that…Felicity?" Matt said. "What-"

"You need to walk away right now," Oliver said. Felicity couldn't see him, but she could hear the threat in his voice. "And if you snap even one photo right now, I will physically remove you from this property."

Someone walked into the bathroom and crouched next to her. It was Roger, and he gently rubbed her back as he murmured, "You had to go and puke in the mansion, didn't you?"

"I feel like I'm dying," she croaked.

"Come on," he said, slipping his arm around her and hoisting her up. "Let's go home."

"How are you guys getting home?" Oliver asked from the doorway.

"I'll call a cab," Roger said, stumbling as Felicity leaned a bit more of her weight into him then he was expecting.

"Roger," Felicity muttered, squeezing her eyes shut. "Not to make more problems, but I don't think I can be in a car anytime in the near future."

"What?"

She turned around suddenly and ran back into the bathroom. When she was finished Oliver was crouched beside her and said, "You can stay in the guest room here, if you'd like."

"No, I'll be fine," she said, sitting back on the bathroom tiles. "I just…I just need to rest for a moment."

Oliver smiled slightly. "Felicity, would you please just stay here tonight? I promise you the guest room is nice. It has fresh bedding and everything."

"Well, as long as it has fresh bedding," she mumbled, head pounding. Actually, the thought of a nice bed with nice smelling sheets seemed pretty, well, nice.

"Roger can stay too, if he wants," Oliver added after a moment. Felicity shook her head and said, "No, I'm fine. I'm just going to sleep. And probably puke some more. But, you know, I don't really need company for either of those activities."

"Alright, I'll help you get upstairs," Roger said.

"I've got it," Oliver said, sliding his arm around her and helping her stand. "You call your cab."

"Alright." Roger gave Felicity a quick hug and whispered, "Try not to puke on anything, okay?"

She smiled weakly. "I'll do my best."

Thea walked with Oliver and Felicity up the winding staircase to the bedrooms, going on about how sorry she was that she got sick, and that if it ended up being food poisoning she'd never let Delish cater anything again.

"I'll be fine," Felicity told Thea weakly. "But right now, I really need to not be vertical."

"Go and enjoy your party," Oliver told Thea. "I'll take care of Felicity."

"Okay," Thea said. "I hope you feel better, Felicity!"

Thea disappeared and Felicity's headache abated just a bit. She liked Thea, but sometimes the girl could be a bit much. Oliver turned down the bed for her, surprisingly quiet for someone who had so steadfastly insisted he took care of everything. Maybe he wasn't a nervous chatter. He glanced over at her, eyes lingering on her dress.

"Pajamas," he murmured. "Hold on."

He left the room and then came back with a pair of flannel pajama pants and an oversized tshirt.

"These are Thea's so they should fit you," Oliver said, laying them on the bed. "I'll, uh, let you change."

He stepped out of the room and she changed as quickly as she could. All the movement kicked her stomach into gear and she ran to the bathroom. Kneeling on the tiled floor, she thought to herself that she hadn't even been in the guest room two minutes and she was already christening its bathroom. She heard someone walk in behind her, and then Oliver was crouched beside her, rubbing her back and telling her it would all pass. If she were in a better state, she would have debated that point.

He helped her up when she was finished and put her back in bed. She tucked the covers under her arms, eyes drifting closed. Her stomach seemed to be leveling off for the moment, and she hoped it remained that way.

"Thank you for letting me stay," she mumbled, already feeling sleep pulling on her eyelids. Apparently numerous emotional debacles and a bout of flu were very tiring.

"You're welcome, Felicity."

There was a beat of silence, and then she swore she felt him brush her hair away from her face. But by the time she opened her eyes he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of stuff happening in this chapter! I'd love to hear your thoughts!


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are the best. Seriously. If I knew the Arrow fandom was this amazing I would have started writing for it ions ago. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Felicity woke up in an unfamiliar bed and immediately panicked. The night before was hazy, like a feverish dream, and she struggled to remember what had happened. Slowly she pieced the night together. Meeting Laurel. Matt and almost falling for his bol shit lines. Vomiting. So much vomiting. She grimaced, turning on her side and pulling the covers up beneath her chin. Her body felt achy all over, but at least she wasn't nauseous anymore. That seemed to have passed for the time being, and she decided it was time to try sitting up. She moved slowly, not wanting to move too suddenly and end up falling right back on the mattress.

"Not bad," she murmured, her head acclimating to its new vertical position nicely. She turned and dangled her legs off the bed, arching her back as she stretched a bit. Her stomach muscles screamed in protest, sore from all the retching during the night. She rubbed her stomach for a moment before standing up. Her head swam uncomfortably and she grabbed onto the nightstand.

It was at that exact moment Thea Queen opened the door, rushing over when she saw Felicity doubled over beside the nightstand. She took a hold of Felicity's arm, her grasp just a bit too tight.

"Felicity? Oh my god, are you okay?"

"I'm good," Felicity said weakly, straightening up. The dizziness was subsiding, thankfully.

"You know, you can sleep more," Thea said. " I was just coming in here to check up on you. But you can stay as long as you want."

"I should be heading back home," Felicity said. She didn't like staying at someone else's place in good health. Besides, she was pretty sure she looked like death right now, and her silly girl side didn't want Oliver to see her that way.

"Are you sure you don't want to lie down?"

Felicity shook her head obstinately.

"Well, is there anything I can get you? What about breakfast? Raisa made these amazing chocolate chip pancakes…" she trailed off when she saw Felicity's grimace, "…which you probably don't want right now."

Felicity shook her head. She swallowed, the acrid taste of sleep and vomit on her tongue.

"Actually, there is something," Felicity began. "Do you know if there's a tooth brush and tooth paste in the bathroom?"

"I think so," Thea said, walking past her into the bathroom. Felicity watched her rifle through the cabinets, taking interest in the brief glimpse she got of the various toiletries. Usually Felicity would have gone through the cabinets. It was actually one of those things she regularly did at other people's houses that she probably shouldn't, but her curiosity always won out. You can tell a lot about a person from their medicine cabinet. The Queens had been nice letting her stay the night, though, and she figured she should respect their bathroom privacy.

"I knew we had it," Thea said, pulling a fresh tube of Colgate toothpaste and a toothbrush from the drawer beneath the bathroom sink. She set them both on the counter. "Let me know if you need anything else."

Felicity nodded, stepping into the bathroom. As Thea left Felicity turned and said, "Thea?"

The young Queen glanced back and said, "Yeah?"

"It really was a nice party last night," she told her.

Thea smiled softly. "Thanks, Felicity."

Thea left the room and Felicity turned back toward the mirror, taking in her drawn, pallid face. She hadn't washed her face the night before, and her eye makeup was caked beneath her lower lashes.

"Woof," she grumbled, turning on the faucet and leaning forward to splash her face with water. When she straightened Oliver was standing behind her. She jumped in surprise, knocking over the toothpaste.

"Shit, I'm sorry," he said, crouching down the same time she did to get the toothpaste. They nearly knocked heads, and she rose shakily. He laughed a bit uncomfortably and put the toothpaste back on the counter.

"I didn't mean to scare you," he said, grabbing a towel from the rack on the wall for her to wipe her dripping face. "Or nearly knock you over there. Thea just told me you were up, and I thought I'd see how you were feeling."

"It's okay," she said shakily, patting her face dry. "No harm no foul, right?"

He smiled a bit. "Right. So, how are you feeling?"

"Better," she said. "Thank you for letting me stay here last night. I don't think I would have lasted long in a car."

"It was my pleasure. I was happy to be of some help."

"You were more than some," she murmured, remembering how he had held her hair back the night before, gently rubbing her back as she did probably one of the least attractive things a girl could do. And then he stayed with her the rest of the night, dutifully helping her to the bathroom and then back to the bed.

"I'm sorry I kept you from the rest of the party," she said.

"You know, believe it or not hanging out with a bunch of eighteen year olds isn't exactly my favorite pastime," he told her with a slight grin. "I was happy for an excuse to bow out early. Granted, I didn't know it would include so much vomiting-"

"Let's not use that word," she said, wrinkling her nose.

He laughed. "I was more than happy to take care of you."

"Well, thank you," she said, blushing a bit at his words. "The bathroom floor and I appreciate it."

"You should stay for breakfast," he said after a moment. "I can have Raisa make you some toast. Something light. And tea. I think that's what you're supposed to have when you have an unsettled stomach, right? That sounds right."

Felicity knew she shouldn't find Oliver so adorable planning out her sick breakfast, but she couldn't help it. He was adorable. He was standing there, talking about and tea and toast, and before she could stop herself she said, "Sure, I'll stay."

"Great," he said crisply, flashing her a quick smile. "I'll have Raisa set a place for you at the table."

"Let me just brush my teeth and I'll meet you downstairs," she told him.

He nodded. "Okay. I'll see you down there."

She watched him leave in the mirror and then quickly set to brushing her teeth, all the while wondering why she had agreed to stay. Him being adorable was not a valid reason for staying. She looked at her reflection. Her cheeks were flushed, and it had less to do with a potential fever than the memory of his warm hand on her back. The material of the sleep shirt had been thin, and she had felt the warmth of his hand against her skin.

"He was just being friendly," she told her reflection. "Friends take care of friends."

Her reflection seemed to stare back at her defiantly.

"He has a girlfriend," she told herself firmly. "So, stop it with the impure thoughts." She stared herself down. "I mean it, Felicity. Stop it."

Content with her little pep talk, she turned away from the mirror and headed back into the room. She quickly changed into her dress from the night before and then walked downstairs, the smell of pancakes hitting her nose. It smelled good, but she didn't trust her stomach to handle more than the previously offered tea and toast. She got turned around once – finding herself in some weird corridor lined with paintings – before she found the dining room. Thea and Oliver were already seated at the table. There was an older woman sitting at the head of the table, and Felicity could only assume the woman was Moira Queen.

Felicity spied a table setting with some toast and tea, and assumed the seat was intended for her. As she slipped into the seat Moira said, "Good morning, dear. I heard you took ill last night. I was sorry to hear that."

"Thank you, Mrs. Queen. I'm feeling a lot better."

"Thea told me you work at the school?" Moria asked, delicately cutting her pancakes. Her movements were careful and measured.

Felicity nodded. "I work with IT."

"Well, you've certainly made quite the impression on both of my children," Moira said pleasantly. "They've been singing your praises all morning."

Felicity didn't know quite how to respond to that and chose, instead, to take a bite of her toast. She chewed slowly, a bit of nausea creeping up on her. Unhappily, she set the toast back down on the plate.

"How's that going down?" Oliver asked.

"Like gang busters," she returned weakly. She hated this flu. She really hated it. She picked up the tea and took an experimental sip. That seemed to work better, and she took a second sip.

"Would you like me to just take you home?" Oliver asked, setting down his fork.

Felicity shook her head. "No, no it's fine. I'll have Roger pick me up."

"But he'll have to come all the way out here," he said. "I'll take you home."

"You don't have to," she said uncomfortably. He kept doing all these things for her lately, and she wasn't so sure it was a good idea. Because every time he was nice and sweet she found herself falling a little more for something unattainable. And that, she reasoned, was decidedly not good.

"Yes, he does," Moira interjects. "His mother insists. You're looking a little green around the gills, dear."

It had been years since Felicity heard that particular phrase, and she had inappropriate urge to giggle.

"Take the town car, Oliver" Moira told him. "It'll be an easier ride for her."

"Thank you," Felicity mumbled, feeling like just about the biggest burden there ever was. But the Queen family seemed intent on taking care of her, and she figured fighting it was moot.

"Is your purse upstairs?" Oliver asked, standing up. She nodded and he said, "I'll just run upstairs and get it, then we can leave."

"Okay."

He disappeared and Felicity slumped in her seat, reaching forward for the tea. She sipped at it slowly, the warm liquid warming her belly.

"You know, you still look pretty good for puking all night," Thea offered. "When I'm sick I look like the walking dead."

Felicity smiled weakly. "Thank you, Thea."

Oliver joined them again with her white clutch in one hand and her nude pumps in the other. At the sight of him with her purse and shoes she had another urge to giggle. She couldn't suppress this one quite as well as before and ended up covering an escaped giggle with a well-placed cough.

"I have a feeling you shouldn't be walking in these right now," Oliver said, lifting the towering heels.

"I have the same feeling," she agreed. She stood shakily from the table. "Looks like I'm going barefoot."

"Wait, what size shoe are you?" Thea asked, straightening in her seat.

"Um, an eight?" Felicity said, realizing that phrasing it as a question was probably strange. She knew her shoe size.

"Stay right there," Thea ordered lightly, jumping from her seat and running upstairs. She returned in less than a minute, a pair of Chanel flats in her hand. Felicity's immediate instinct was to say no. Those shoes cost more than her monthly rent, and knowing her luck she'd puke on them or step in a random pile of dog you-know-what. But Thea insisted, and she slipped them on.

"Thanks, Thea."

"Just bring them back Monday," Thea said happily, pleased that she could be of actual help. "Or, you know, whenever you have a chance."

Felicity nodded, taking her shoes and purse and shoes from Oliver. Before they left she turned back to the table and said, "It was great meeting you, Mrs. Queen."

"You too, dear. Feel better."

She nodded. "And I'll see you Monday, Thea."

Her and Oliver headed out the back of the house and toward the garage. She spotted his usual Ferrari, and parked beside it was a sleek town car. He opened the door for her and she slipped in, the strong scent of leather and something else filling her nostrils. He climbed in beside her and slid the key into the ignition. They took a back way out onto one of the main roads and then they were on the way to her apartment. Moira had been right about the town car's ride; she barely felt like she was moving.

Both were silent as they drove, and Felicity racked her brain for any topic of conversation to breach the silence. Being the masochist she was, she chose the least pleasant topic.

"It was nice meeting Laurel last night," she said. "She seems really sweet."

Oliver cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Yeah, she is."

Her mouth was dry like sandpaper, and she wanted nothing more than to leave it at that. She acknowledged the girlfriend. She even said something nice about her. But she knew that it wasn't enough. Acknowledging Laurel wasn't enough. If she was really going to accept this and move forward, she had to know more.

"How did you guys meet?" she forced out.

"Um, we grew up together. We were high school sweethearts, actually."

"You've been dating since high school?" she blurted out, face growing hot. She quickly counted the years. She didn't know his exact age, but assuming he was her age that would be nine years of dating.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "We haven't been dating since high school. We were together for maybe a year then. But we were both so young. And I'll admit, I wasn't exactly ready to settle down."

She relaxed a bit and said, "Seventeen year old you wanted to play the field, huh?"

He chuckled. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. Anyway, we reconnected a few months ago."

"A few months," she repeated, thinking to herself how wonderfully different that was from nine years.

"Yeah, a few months," he said. "So, what about that Matt guy. What's his story?"

"You mean besides him being a total and complete douchewad?" she returned.

He smirked. "Yes, besides that. I figured that out all on my own."

She sighed, leaning her head back against the headrest. It was always difficult talking about Matt, and last night hadn't exactly helped matters. There was this song she used to listen to called Ghosts and one of the lines went, I'm just mourning the ghosts that broke my heart before I met you. That was Matt for her. He was the relationship that haunted her.

"We met at MIT," she said, voice detached. "We were both in this ridiculous humanities class. Neither of us wanted to be there, but we needed it to graduate. So, sensing each other's raging apathy, we became friends. And then we became more. Anyway, we dated. I fell in love." She glanced down at her hands. "I thought he fell in love. And then it ended."

"I'm sorry," Oliver said softly. She could feel his gaze on her but she couldn't look at him. Last night's wounds were still open and raw, and she was afraid that his tender gaze would open them further.

"Whatever happened, he's an idiot."

She smiled a bit, despite herself, and reminded him, "You don't even know what happened."

"I don't have to," he told her simply. "Anyone who would willingly leave you is an idiot, Felicity. And he's a double idiot for what he did last night."

She swallowed hard, turning her face toward the window. She wished he wouldn't say things like that. Logically she knew he was just being nice. The night before had been awful for her, and the natural inclination was to make her feel better. Roger would do the same thing. But somehow, when it was Oliver doing the nice friendly things it felt different.

Her phone rang in her purse and she pulled it out, not surprised to see Roger's name flashing on the screen. She clicked into the call and said, "I'm not dead, Roger."

"Well, I figured that when you answered your phone," he returned. "Do you need me to pick you up?"

She glanced over at Oliver. "No, Oliver's driving me."

"Alright, do you need anything?"

"No, I'm fine," she told him. "You enjoy your Saturday."

"Do you have food in your house?" Roger pressed. "I know you. There's probably just pizza rolls and ice cream in your freezer."

"Um, I think I have some leftover takeout rice in my refrigerator," she said uncertainly. Oliver looked over at her.

"Okay, yeah, I'm getting you chicken soup. Have you left the Queen's yet?"

"Yeah, Roger-"

"I'll be there in about twenty minutes," he interrupted. "Don't touch that rice. God knows how long that's been in your refrigerator."

She went to argue, but he had a point. "I'll see you later, Roger."

"Bye."

She hung up and pushed her phone back into her purse.

"Do you need to get food?" Oliver asked.

"No, Roger's getting me some," she said, leaning her head back against the seat again. They had just turned onto her street and she could see her building in the distance.

"Thank you for driving me," she told him. "I seem to be thanking you for a lot of things these days."

"You are very welcome," he told her. "And, like I said before, I really don't mind helping. It's nice to be needed."

She snorted and he said, "I could have phrased that better."

"Yes," she said, nodding. "Yes, you could have."

He parked in front of her apartment building and then helped her up to the apartment. His hand rested securely on her elbow as they made their way up the two flights of stairs, and she pointedly ignored the wash of heat that came from his touch. They reached her door and she fished the keys out of her purse.

"I think I can take it from here," she told him with a somewhat nervous grin. Standing with him in front of her door like this was making her think decidedly not-platonic things, and she wanted to get inside before she inadvertently said something she'd regret. Or did something she'd regret.

"Alright," he said amicably, sticking his hands in the pockets of his jacket. "I'll see you later then." He started down the stairs but then stopped, turning around to add, "Feel better."

She smiled. "I will. Thanks again."

She watched him descend a few steps before working the lock on her door and walking inside, firmly closing the door behind her.

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She left the door open for Roger and drifted off to sleep on the couch waiting for him. When she woke up he was seated at the end of the couch, watching a basketball game without sound. She shifted on the couch and he glanced over at her with a small grin.

"Well, hello there puke-mitron."

"Not funny," she grumbled, sitting up. "How long have you been here?"

He stretched his neck to see the clock on her microwave. "Um, about two hours?"

"You didn't have to stay," she said, dragging the back of her hand across her eyes.

"I had nothing else to do," he said, shrugging. "Besides, you have ESPN 2. They play all the college basketball games."

"Huh, cool," she said, yawning. Her stomach grumbled and she asked, "Did you bring that chicken noodle soup?"

"I did. I also brought you some lemon lentil. It's all in the refrigerator."

She nodded, pulling herself from the couch. She padded over into the kitchen and grabbed the chicken noodle soup from the refrigerator. While she prepared a bowl for herself Roger twisted on the couch to face her and asked about the rest of the night.

"Let's just say I spent a lot of time in the bathroom," she said, pushing some buttons on the microwave.

"Man, this Starling City flu means business."

"Yes," she said, leaning back against the counter. "Yes, it does."

"Oliver sure was all caring protector last night. I actually thought he was going to punch out Matt. Not that I would have minded that."

"Ha, me neither," Felicity said.

"He was really looking out for you."

She caught the tone of his voice and said, "I thought you said he was a dick?"

"I did. But if a woman is entitled to change her mind then, dammit, so is a man," he returned.

She snorted, shaking her head. "The facts are still the same, Roger. He has a girlfriend."

"You heard the same conversation that I did, Felicity. He's been acting weird for a few weeks. Which, hey, just happens to be when you two met."

The microwave dinged and she opened the door, using a hot pad to pull out the soup. She walked over and settled next to Roger, the soup on her lap.

"Roger, please get a hobby or something. Your fixation on Oliver and my nonexistent relationship is annoying, and frankly, a little disturbing. Besides, he doesn't see me that way."

She ate a spoonful of soup, ignoring the incredulous look he shot her.

"Okay, now that is just bol shit."

"What? He doesn't."

"I could have maybe bought that before last night. Maybe. But after how he acted last night when you got sick, when Matt showed up…you're an idiot if you don't see that he has feelings for you."

"Okay, I've spent a lot more time with him than you have, Roger. I know what I'm talking about, and I am telling you he does not have feelings for me."

She was lying. She was a big old liar, and she knew it. But what was she supposed to say? Yes, she had felt things. She had recognized the same timid attraction in his face that she fought every time they were in the same room. There was something there, sure. But, what good could possibly come from telling that truth?

"I don't believe that and neither do you," he said. "But we're obviously not going to get anywhere with this argument right now. So, just eat your soup."

Roger might push and challenge her, but he also knew when to let something go, at least for the moment. She ate another spoonful of soup.

"Good soup, by the way," she told him.

"Of course it's good. I'm a soup connoisseur."

She smiled a bit, stretching her feet out onto the coffee table. She settled further into the couch and leaned her head against his shoulder. He glanced down at her and said, "If you fall asleep and drool on me I will take a picture and send it to everyone we know."

She chuckled, swatting his arm. "I don't drool."

"Everyone thinks they don't drool. And then, guess what, they do."

"What game are we watching?" she asked, turning her attention to the television screen.

"A Big Ten one - Illinois versus Northwestern."

"And who are we rooting for?" she asked.

Without hesitation he told her, "Illinois, obviously."

"Okay then," she said, nodding her head against his shoulder. "Go Illinois!"

She was asleep within ten minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hoped you enjoyed the nice Felicity x Oliver and Felicity x Roger in here! So, I have some exciting news. Next chapter is all written and it's big guys. It takes the story in a really interesting new direction (at least interesting to me!) and I cannot wait for you guys to read it. Leave me some reviews and you might get to see it tomorrow...hint hint ;)


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are the best. Again. I don't even have enough words to describe how wonderful you all are! I hope you enjoy this game changer of a chapter :)

Felicity sat in the waiting area outside of Principal's Miller office, anxiously drumming her fingers on her thighs. Throughout her schooling, not once was she called to the principal's office. She was almost compulsively well behaved, and she prided herself on it. Besides, why would someone waste time sitting in an office when they could be learning? It just didn't make sense to her. Consequently, her lack of experience made her understandably nervous when she received a message that the president of Starling Prep wanted to speak with her.

She couldn't imagine why Principal Miller would find it necessary to call a private meeting. Her work was good and she always showed up on time and left when she was supposed to. Sure, she probably spent a little more time on Tetris than was appropriate, but it was only because she finished the work so quickly. They'd actually run out of new projects to give her, so she had to find something to fill that time.

A woman walked by in a navy suit and Felicity glanced down at her bright yellow dress. She wished that she'd been alerted of the meeting earlier than that morning so that she could have dressed more appropriately. Bright yellow was probably not the optimal color to wear for a meeting with your boss. A subdued navy would have been better, or the ever appropriate black. She would have even settled for one of her patterned dresses. Instead she was in her sunny yellow shift, clunky orange beaded jewelry around her neck.

"Ms. Smoak," the assistant called from her desk. "Principal Miller will see you now."

Felicity nodded, rising from her seat. She walked up to the large and imposing wooden doors, and opened them. The office was grander than she remembered when she interviewed there two years ago. Principal Miller's desk sat at the back of the room with two ornate chairs set in front of it. To the side there was a fireplace that, despite the frigid weather, was not lit. There were a number of bookshelves lining the walls, all of them crammed with books and other odds and ends.

He grinned amicably at her from the desk and said, "Felicity, hello. Thank you for meeting with me."

"No problem," she said, sitting in one of the chairs across from the desk. "This place seems bigger than the last time I was here. Not that it looked small before. It just looks bigger now. Like it's been eating its Wheaties."

She laughed a bit at her own joke, nerves pulled tight, and was relieved when he politely chuckled.

"I assure you it's the same size, Felicity. I might have rearranged some of the furniture. Perhaps it's that you are picking up on."

She nodded. "Yeah, maybe."

"Anyway, I brought you in here to speak to you about your future with Starling Prep."

"My future?" she repeated, dread settling in her stomach.

"Now that the term is coming to an end, the board and I have been taking a look at the staff here. Enrollment is down for the next academic year, and we had to make some difficult choices. Felicity, I'm sorry, but we have decided to let you go."

"You're letting me go," she stammered, face flushing. "But, how can you do this? It isn't even the end of the school year."

Principal Miller methodically folded his hands on his mahogany desk and said, "If you look at the employment contract that you signed, Felicity, you will see that it is for at-will employment. That means we are allowed to terminate your job at any time and for any reason. Now, obviously, we will give you a few days to settle up any loose ends here, and you will receive severance pay for the remainder of the school year."

"I can't believe this is happening," she murmured.

"On behalf of the board, I'd like to thank you for the two years of work you've put in here," he said smoothly. It occurred to her then that it sounded like he was reading off a script. "We appreciate your hard work and dedication, and wish you nothing but the best."

"Thank you," she mumbled, unable to think of anything else to say. He had just fired her and she was thanking him. She felt sick to her stomach.

She waited for him to say more, but after a beat of silence he told her, "You can see yourself out, Felicity."

"That's it?"

"I don't think we have anything further to discuss," he returned pleasantly.

And just like that, in under five minutes, Felicity was unemployed.

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"This is ridiculous! How can they fire you?" Roger fumed, pacing in front of her desk as she gathered her belongings into the cardboard boxes the school had so graciously provided.

"They didn't fire me," she answered in a monotone voice. "They let me go."

"Same thing," he said dismissively. "They can't do this! You should sue them! Tell them to lawyer up, assholes!"

She shook her head. "I already looked over my contract, Roger. Miller's right. They can terminate my job at any time. And they did. So, end of story."

"I can't believe you're just giving up like this," he said angrily. "You need to fight this, Felicity. It's not right."

"No," she agreed. "No, it's not. But what am I supposed to do? The people who sit on that board are Starling City's big power players. And who am I? Oh right, no one."

"That doesn't matter."

"Yeah, it kind of does," she said irritably. She sat down heavily on her seat, thinking to herself that this was one of the last times she'd sit there.

Roger seemed to calm down and he edged closer to her desk. He placed his hands on her desk and leaned forward as he said, "Also, you're not a no one."

She gave him a half smile and then sighed, leaning back in her seat. "Maybe it's for the best, anyway."

"What?"

"This job was never my dream," she said, splaying her hands over her keyboard. "I wanted to develop software, not help some kid format their power point."

"You do more than that here," he argued.

"I know," she said quickly. "I know I do. But, I want more. I can do more."

Roger looked at her sadly. "I know you can. You tech-dance circles around me. Which makes it even more bol shit that you're leaving and I'm still here."

"Don't go quitting for me," she warned him. "They kept you because you've been here longer. It makes sense."

"No, it doesn't."

"Roger," she sighed, shaking her head. What did he want her to say? That she should be the one staying? That her work was ten times better than his ever was? She knew all of that, and so did he. Yes, it was a shit decision and it wasn't fair, but sometimes life wasn't fair.

"You're better than me," he said. "It should be me leaving, Felicity, not you."

"But it's not," she returned simply. He held her gaze, eyes pained. "I'll be okay, Roger. I'll find something else."

"I know you will," he said in a low voice. "But am I going to find another office mate as cool as you? Because I think the odds are pretty low."

She laughed a bit, shaking her head. "I'd like to think that no one would even come close to my coolness, but I guess you never know."

"Don't worry, Smoak," Roger said, reaching down and grasping her hand.. "You will always be the coolest to me."

She squeezed his hand gently, tears filling her eyes.

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Two days later she was completely moved out of the IT department. She kept the packed boxes in a corner of her living room, too melancholy to unpack them. She told herself that this was a blessing in disguise. Now she could go and take the tech industry by storm like she'd always dreamed, but as her first week as an unemployed person passed, she found herself unmotivated.

The reality was she missed the IT department. She missed the school, and the students, and all those stupid little tasks that she always thought she hated. Yes, they were tedious. Yes, they were below her general intellect. But she liked them. She liked helping people, and she liked the students. She liked hearing their silly little stories and catching snippets of the school drama. It had been sort of thrilling to hear who was sleeping with who, or how this or that person had gotten a nose job, and then another nose job to fix the first botched one. It was like a real life soap opera.

And she missed Roger. She was used to seeing him every day. Sure, he stopped by a lot and her phone usually had at least one text from him waiting to be read, but it wasn't the same. She missed their lazy talks during slow parts of the day, and how they used to play student-tech-bingo.

She missed everything, and as one uneventful day slipped into another she found herself falling deeper and deeper into her melancholy. For so long work had defined her, and now she had nothing. She didn't know who she was outside of a job title. Because right now, technically, she was unemployed; but that didn't seem to serve who she was as a person.

She was mulling over all of this with her second glass of wine at one o'clock in the afternoon when there was a knock on her door. She set the wine on the coffee table and pulled herself from the couch, padding over to the door. When she opened it she was surprised to see Oliver standing there.

"Oliver, what are you doing here?" she asked in confusion.

"Can I come in?" he asked, gesturing behind her toward the apartment. She nodded, stepping back for him to move forward. He walked in and unbuttoned his coat, pulling it off and setting it on the back of her couch.

"Well, make yourself at home," she said half to herself.

"Thea told me what happened with your job," Oliver said. "I'm really sorry."

She shrugged. "It's fine. I mean, it happens, right? I'm not the first person in the history of the world to be laid off. It happens to lots of people and they do just fine. So, logic follows that I will do fine. Be fine. Just fine."

He smiled tightly. "I'm glad to hear that."

"So, why are you here? I really don't need people checking up on me," she said. Somewhere in her mind she knew she was being rude, but the wine she'd consumed earlier made her tongue and mind loose.

"I wanted to help," he said simply.

"I don't need help," she said resolutely, sitting down on her couch. She reached forward and grabbed her wine.

"I know you don't," he returned. He watched her take a large mouthful of wine. "Don't you think it's a little early for a drink?"

"Since when are you a life coach?" she shot back. His face hardened and she felt a pang of guilt. He was there to make sure she was okay, and she was being a bitch.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, leaning forward and setting her drink on the table. She dragged her fingers through her hair, exhaling long and slow. "I, um, haven't been taking the job thing well. I've actually been taking it pretty hard."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Oliver asked, settling on the couch next to him. She shook her head, wiping at her nose.

"No, I mean, it's fine. I'm just going through some mourning period or whatever. It'll pass."

"You don't have to keep rationalizing your feelings," he said quietly, laying a hand on her shoulder. "No one here is going to judge you."

"I think I might be judging myself a little."

He chuckled. "Is that so?"

"I drank an entire glass of wine at ten in the morning. I deserve to be judged."

"We all have our weak moments, Felicity."

"Yeah, well, I feel like I've been having more than my fair share lately."

He slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him. Her nose was pressed against the material of his grey shirt, and she smelled a mixture of soap, sweat, and something else that was innately Oliver. His body was warm and comforting, his arm holding her securely, and before she fully recognized what was happening she was crying. It was ugly crying – the worst kind – but she couldn't stop. Her entire body shook and she covered her face with her hand, wishing for whatever madness that had gripped her to go away.

It took a few minutes, but she calmed down. She pulled away sheepishly, wiping at her eyes. A brittle laugh left her mouth as she said, "I'm sorry for crying on your shirt."

"It's okay. It's not one of my favorites, anyway."

"I'm okay now," she told him, sniffling. "I-I think it passed."

"Are you sure? This shirt probably has one good cry left in it."

She laughed a bit. "I'm sure. Thank you, though."

He reached forward and gently wiped away an errant tear with the edge of his thumb. "Anytime, Felicity."

"So, what are you really here for?" she asked after a moment. "Because this is a pretty lengthy trip to just say hi."

He straightened a bit on the couch and said, "Well, um, I actually came here to offer you a job."

She stared at him. "What?"

"My family's company just lost one of its tech guys. We were going to post the job opening later this week, but it's sort of an unspoken rule that an internal search happens first. And, well, I found you."

"You found me," she repeated slowly. "For a job at Queen Consolidated?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I mean, if you want it."

"Don't I have to interview?" she asked.

"I'm on the interview committee," he told her with a boyish grin. "So, consider this your interview."

"Right now?" she stammered. "Like, this very moment?"

He nodded with that same grin. "In case you're wondering, you're doing a wonderful job."

"I'm tipsy and I yelled at you. In what universe is that doing a wonderful job?"

"The job is yours, Felicity," he said calmly. "If you want it."

She stared at him, wondering how she'd gone from crying on his shoulder to getting a job offer. This was shaping up to be one of the odder days in recent past.

"You don't have to decide right now," he said, standing up. "I do need an answer by the end of the week, though. Otherwise the position gets posted."

"Okay," she said in a small voice.

"Well, I'll let you get back to your afternoon," he said, putting his coat back on. "I really do hop you'll consider the job, though. I think you'd be a great fit."

"Why?" she asked. "Why do you think I'd be a great fit?"

He looked at her, eyes unreadable. "I don't know. I guess I just have a feeling."

With that he opened the door and left. She stared at the door, her heart slamming against her chest. Queen Consolidated was the exact sort of place she'd dreamt of working at after graduation. It had one of the most sophisticated security systems in the world, and their computer network was a techie's wet dream. And she could work there. All she had to do was say yes.

Say yes.

She flew from the apartment, yelling for him. He was at the bottom the stairs when she reached him. He looked up at her expectantly, looking just about as anxious as she felt.

"Felicity?"

"Yes," she said, breathing heavily. "My answer is yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thoughts? Next chapter is almost finished, so you should get it Wednesday!


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the chapter you all have been waiting for! I hope you enjoy it. Quick note - for the purposes of this story Oliver and Diggle are around the same age. They also went to Harvard. So...yay!

Felicity stood in front of her mirror, tugging at her dress. It was her first day at Queen Consolidated, and she wanted to make sure she looked nice. She'd taken her work dresses to the dry cleaner earlier in the week, and was met with the task of choosing one the night before. That led to a fashion show in her room as she tried on each dress, examining her reflection with the scrutiny of an Olympic judge. Ultimately, she ended up choosing a fitted red dress with cap sleeves.

She passed up her usual bright jewelry and clasped a strand of pearls around her neck. They felt cold against her skin and she touched them softly, her stomach fluttering. She didn't know she'd be this nervous. Sure, a new job was always nerve inducing, but this was ridiculous. Every nerve ending seemed to be on fire as she applied her deep red lipstick and blotted her lips carefully on a folded up tissue.

"You can do this," she told her reflection. "You are more than qualified for this job."

In reality, she had no idea if she was qualified for the job. At first the lack of a real interview hadn't bothered her, but then she started thinking about Queen Consolidated, and what a power hitter it was in the city. What if she wasn't good enough? Yes, Oliver said he had a feeling about her, but what did that even mean? If their time together had shown her anything, it was that he was technologically illiterate. What did he really know about her being a good fit at the company?

Her phone buzzed on the counter, pulling her from her jittery thoughts. Roger's name flashed on the screen and she picked up her phone, swiping into the call.

"Hi Roger," she said, leaning toward the mirror as she fixed a bit of smudged lipstick with the edge of her ring finger. She pressed her lips together, on the lookout for any other smudges.

"I know you're probably busy right now freaking out about your first day, but I wanted to call and wish you good luck."

She grinned. "Thank you. And, for the record, I am not freaking out."

"I'm going to sidestep that blatant lie and just remind you that you are a tech genius. Queen Consolidated is lucky to have you."

"Thanks Roger," she said, shifting between her feet anxiously. She checked her watch. It was time to go. "Crap. I have to go. Talk to you later?"

"Yes, definitely. Go have fun."

"Bye."

She hung up, taking a deep breath. She nodded to her reflection and said, "Time to face the music, kid."

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Queen Consolidated was one of those buildings that all corporate buildings seemed to be modeled after. It was towering with mirrored windows and a tall spire that seemed to reach up into the clouds. There was a parking garage beside the building where she parked, taking care to type the space number and floor into her phone so that she'd remember where she'd parked later. She stepped into the elevator and it rode down, stopping at the third floor.

"Hello Felicity," Oliver said with a grin, stepping into the elevator with her. She stared at him and stammered, "What are you doing here?"

"Well, right now I am taking the elevator down to the ground floor of the parking garage," he explained with a boyish grin. Her nerves pulled so tightly that she had a sudden urge to reach over and slap him.

"No, I mean-"

"I know what you meant," he interrupted, laughing lightly. "I work at Queen Consolidated. I thought you knew that."

She shook her head. Believe it or not, the Queen dynasty hadn't exactly been something she kept tabs on.

"What about Verdant?" she asked.

"I'm still working there, too," he told her. "But that's why I went into business with Tommy. It lightens the load."

She nodded, pressing her lips together. "So, what do you do here?"

Oliver paused and then said, "Well, I am the Vice President."

If she had been drinking something then she would have spit it out at that. He was Vice President? Well, that would explain how he could get her a job without a formal interview.

"My mom used to be Vice President," he explained crisply. "But she stepped up as CEO when my father died. When I finished college I took over as Vice President."

She was surprised by the detachment in his voice when he spoke of his father. But she assumed enough time had passed. She remembered when Robert Queen died. Even the most casual consumer of news knew every detail. It was six or seven years ago. Robert Queen had been en route to Japan for a business meeting when his private jet malfunctioned. Remnants of the plane were found in the Atlantic Ocean. His body was never discovered.

"Anyway, how are you feeling about your first day?" he asked as the elevator came to a stop. The doors slid open and he gestured for her to walk out first.

"I'm okay," she said, glancing back at him. "I mean, I'm nervous. Obviously. This is, like, the really, really big leagues."

They walked out of the building and crossed the street toward Queen Consolidated. She didn't tilt her head back like when she'd first seen the Queen mansion, and inwardly congratulated herself on keeping her cool. They walked inside the building and Felicity swallowed hard when she saw the large security detail guarding the entrance. There was a metal detector and one of those conveyor belt things they had at the airport that scanned your bag for weapons. A sudden irrational fear gripped her that she had some sort of knife or something in her bag.

She hesitated in front of the belt and Oliver glanced down at her in confusion.

"Felicity?"

"These things always make me a little jumpy," she said quickly, slipping her bag off of her shoulder and putting it on the belt. She watched nervously as she walked through the metal detector.

"I'm always afraid they're going to find a knife of bomb in it," she said anxiously as they checked out the bag. "Not that I usually travel with knives or bombs. I mean, maybe a knife if have my lunch in my bag. But then it's usually just a plastic knife, and you can't do much damage with that. Not that I'd want to do damage…" she trailed off when her bag slid out on the other side of the conveyor belt, "…thank God."

Oliver grinned. "You'll need an ID badge to get you up to your floor. We'll stop over at security and get you one."

They walked toward the elevators and she asked, "Is it normal protocol for the VP to help new hires get their badges and all this?"

"I like to be very involved in all aspects of the company," he returned smoothly. He pressed the up button and as they waited he added, "But I also want to make sure you have everything you need for a good first day."

She grinned, tucking her chin to her chest. "Thank you."

"It's my pleasure."

The elevator doors slid open and he gently placed his hand on her lower back, guiding her into the elevator car. He pulled out his badge and pressed it to a sensor before pressing floor 22.

The elevator moved quickly and her hand flew to the wall. Her stomach seemed to get to the 22nd floor a moment after the elevator car and she murmured, "How fast does this thing go?"

"Lightening speed," Oliver said, eyes glimmering. She smirked and he said, "Or, you know, really fast."

"How precise," she joked.

There were two doors on either side of the elevator lobby and they walked to the left, Oliver swiping his card to open the door. She noted the two levels of security at even such a basic level, and thought to herself that this security team meant serious business.

When she walked in the first thing she noticed was the Billy Joel playing. The song was Uptown Girl and she found Oliver and her inadvertently walking to the beat.

"Our head security guy is a big Billy Joel fan," Oliver told her with a grin.

"Damn right I am," a dark skinned man said, stepping out of a cubicle. He had a kind face, and when he grinned wide at her Felicity decided she liked him. "Is this our new IT girl, Oliver?"

"Yes, this is Felicity Smoak. Felicity, this is John Diggle."

"It's great to meet you," Diggle said, reaching his hand forward. She grasped it firmly and he said, "Nice handshake."

"Thank you," she said, smiling a bit.

"So, what do you need?" he asked Oliver.

"We need an ID badge," Oliver said. "Usual IT access."

"Alright, I'll have one of my guys get to work on it," he said. Diggle looked over at Felicity and told her, "I'll bring it over to you when it's ready."

"I can come up here and get it myself," she said, not wanting to be a hassle. He was supposed to be looking after all of Queen Consolidated security, after all. She didn't think ID pusher was in his job detail.

"It's no problem," he told her. "You're just across the floor."

"Oh," she said, nodding. "I did not know that. Okay. Thanks"

"Yeah, no problem," he said. "It should be ready in about an hour."

"Alright, thanks man," Oliver said. He turned to Felicity and said, "And now, on to your office."

As they left Diggle loudly said, "Hey, Oliver, we still on for Big Belly Burger this afternoon?"

"You know me, Digg, I never turn down Big Belly Burger."

Diggle laughed. "Alright. I'll see you then."

They walked out of the security depot and Felicity leaned toward Oliver as she said, "He was nice. I like him."

Oliver grinned. "Digg's a good guy. We went to college together. When we graduated I came here, and he went on to do a few tours in Afghanistan."

Felicity's eyes widened. "He's military?"

"Former," Oliver corrected, pressing his badge against the sensor for the opposite door in the elevator lobby and opening it for her. "He was honorably discharged after his second tour. When he came back here he was looking for a job. I figured what better place for him than here?"

"You have a thing for picking up strays," she noted wryly, glancing over at him.

He smiled at that, shaking his head. "No, I have a thing for looking out for the people I care about."

The insinuation was clear and her cheeks reddened. Thankfully they had reached an empty cubicle, otherwise she would have been forced to come up with something to say to him. And in that particular moment, she wasn't sure she could string together a coherent sentence.

"Now, try not to get too excited," he began. "But this is your cubicle."

She snorted, pressing her lips together as she nodded her head appreciatively. She had to admit that when she thought of Queen Consolidated, she didn't think of cubicles. But it seemed the nicer digs were reserved from the execs.

"It's everything I've ever dreamed of," she returned with feigned solemnity.

"Logins are all in the top drawer," he told her. "It'll have your password to get on the computer. Company email login and password."

Felicity stepped forward and opened the drawer. Sure enough there was a freshly printed piece of paper there, with all the numbers and codes someone would need to break into her computer.

"You guys do realize this is a security breach waiting to happen, right?" she told him, pulling the paper from the drawer. "What did you guys do before I got here?"

He laughed. "They're just to get you started. Standard protocol is that you change all the passwords once you're logged in."

"Oh, well, that's good to hear," she said. "I take back my previous comment."

"Anyway, our main IT guy should be over here soon to talk with you. He'll, you know, actually tell you what you'll be doing here. In the mean time you can log in and start playing around with the computer."

"Start playing around with the computer," she repeated with a wide grin. "Those words are music to my ears."

Oliver laughed. "Alright. I'll see you later then."

He casually brushed her shoulder with his hand and then he was gone. She settled down at her new desk, swiveling a bit in her chair as she tried to suppress the manic grin threatening to break out on her face. She, Felicity Smoak, was working in the IT department of a Fortune 500 company. And who would have thought it was all possible because she doled out some unsolicited computer advice in a coffee shop?

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The next few hours were filled with her supervisor, Mike, going through the IT department ropes with her. Unsurprisingly, there were a number of daily tasks the department handled, and she was quickly shown how to do the ones that fell on her plate. It all seemed rather routine, and she felt comfortable that she could handle it. Next, she was given a few longer term projects. Being the lowest on the IT-totem-pole, it was nothing groundbreaking, but it still felt leagues above what she had been dong at Starling Prep.

She was deep into work on one of the projects when someone knocked on her cubicle behind her. She turned in her chair, smiling when she saw John Diggle standing in front of her.

"Hi Mr. Diggle."

"Please, call me Digg," he said. "Everyone else does."

She nodded. "Alright, Digg."

The name felt strange on her tongue, and she must have made a face because he laughed and said, "You can call me John if you want."

"No, Digg is fine," she said, shaking her head. "I just sort of need to get to used to it. Digg's not exactly a normal name. You don't meet a lot of Diggs out there. Although, I guess you wouldn't expect to because technically it's a nickname and, wow, have I been talking for a while? Because I feel like I've been talking for a while."

"I was wondering when you were going to breath," he noted, grinning slightly.

"I have remarkable lung capacity."

"Good to know," he said with a smirk. He held up a square badge with a photo that looked surprisingly like her driver's license photo. "I have your ID badge."

"Thanks," she said, taking it from him. "Hey, where'd you get this photo?"

"We just took it from your driver's license," he said casually. "Anyway, what are you doing for lunch?"

She glanced up from her badge. "Um, I was just going to brown bag it. I brought a turkey sandwich and some chips."

"Why don't you join Oliver and me at Big Belly Burger," he offered.

"I don't want to get in the way of your bromance-ey lunch or whatever," she said, wincing at her choice of words. But, come on. If their interaction before told her anything, it was that there was a major bromance going on there.

Thankfully, Diggle didn't seem ruffled by her word choice and said, "Neither of us mind. Besides, I make it my sold purpose to introduce all Queen Consolidated employees to Big Belly Burger."

"Alright," she said. "When are you guys going?"

"Now," he said simply.

"Now," she said, bracing her hands on the armrests of the chair. "I guess now works. Let's go get some burgers."

She rose from her chair and grabbed her purse and coat. As they walked out the IT department she told him, "For the record, I'm already a Big Belly Burger fan. I go there so often, it's practically my second home."

Diggle smiled down at her. "I like you already."

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Felicity, Diggle, and Oliver sat around the table at Big Belly Burger, the boys regaling Felicity with stories of their Harvard days. Apparently the two had gotten into their fair share of trouble during their time together.

"So, there I was, in the middle of January, with no clothes on. I was supposed to be streaking, but I twisted my ankle so badly when I tripped over the damn bench that I could barely walk. So, I'm looking around, trying to find an out, when I spot this sweatshirt over on the side of the quad. It was pretty empty out because it was a weekend, and most people were indoors, so I focused all of my attention on that sweatshirt and launched forward. Unfortunately, with all my focus on the sweatshirt, I didn't notice my history professor coming my way."

"The professor's name was Regina Hillibrand, by the way," Diggle added.

"Yes, Regina Hillibrand," Oliver repeated. "She wasn't my biggest fan. That interaction didn't help matters."

Felicity snorted. "Yeah, I wouldn't think so."

"Anyway, we both were scarred for life. And that, Felicity, is why you never enter a bet with John Diggle."

"I can't believe you made him go through with it," Felicity said to Diggle, popping a fry into her mouth.

"The way I see it, we were men and men are honorable. When you enter a bet and the loser has to streak across campus, the honorable thing to do is strip down and get running."

"Remind me to never enter a bet with you," Felicity deadpanned.

"So, what about you?" Diggle asked. "You do any crazy things in college?"

"Um, yeah," Felicity said, picking up a fry and dragging it through her pool of ketchup. "I did crazy things all the time. Like, this one time, I drank coffee after ten pm. And it wasn't even decaf."

Diggle laughed. "You lived life on the edge, huh?"

She nodded solemnly and told him, "I have a very low caffeine tolerance."

"So, you were pretty tame?" Diggle filled in.

"Yeah, I guess. I mean, I didn't have a ton of friends so I spent most of my time inside doing homework and stuff."

The boys were quiet and she realized that her statement may have come off more sad than she intended.

"But, I had a great time in college," she added hurriedly. "You know, I didn't have a ton of friends, but the ones that I did have were close. Really close. We actually…" she trailed off when she realized what she was about to say may not be the best thing to reveal on her first day on the job. Especially not to the head of security.

"You actually, what?" Oliver asked.

"Nothing," she said quickly, sipping her soda.

"Oh, it's something," Diggle said, grinning at Oliver. "I think we found our story of a rogue Felicity."

"Come on, I told you the streaking story," Oliver said. "It can't be worse than that."

Felicity took a deep breath, deciding whether the act of bonding was worth revealing such a potentially damaging story. Yes, it showed her tech expertise as well as the streak of rebellion that rarely surfaced. But, it also showed a blatant disregard for the law. And firewalls.

"Okay," Felicity sighed, giving in. "Um, so, as one of you might know, I dated this guy Matt in college."

Oliver's jaw tightened. "I remember."

"You know this guy?" Diggle said, glancing at Oliver.

"Let's just say I almost physically removed him from my home a few weeks ago," Oliver said. Diggle nodded in understanding and Felicity continued.

"We didn't end well and I was feeling particularly…unfriendly. I worked with my friends and we hacked into homeland security's mainframe and added his name to the no-fly list."

"Damn," Diggle breathed out.

"There's more," Felicity said. "He was supposed to go on this big European trip after graduation, and he got a little rowdy when they wouldn't let him past security. Someone called the police, and he ended up being arrested for disorderly conduct."

The boys were quiet for a moment, and she couldn't tell whether that was a good or bad thing. She grabbed her pop and drank from it nervously.

"Huh," Diggle said, shaking his head. "Who would have known that out of the three of us, you'd be the biggest badass?"

There was a beat of silence and then all three of them were laughing. Oliver was doubled over. Diggle leaned heavily against the wall beside him. When their laughter died down she admitted, "I did go back in and fix it a few months later when I wasn't so mad at him."

"Remind me to never cross you," Oliver said, reaching over and plucking a fry from her basket.

"We better head back," Diggle said, glancing down at his watch. "There's a security check I need to oversee in ten minutes."

They threw out their meals and headed back to the building. On the way back they held easy conversation, Oliver poking fun at her and Diggle goading him on. She'd only been there for half a day, and already it felt like home.

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Five o'clock came quickly and before Felicity knew it she was home, feet propped up on her table as she drank a cup of tea. There was a knock on her door and she glanced back as she yelled, "It's open!"

Roger walked in, shutting the door and locking it behind him.

"You know you really shouldn't leave the door unlocked like that."

"I knew it was you," she said with a shrug.

"No you didn't," Roger said, taking off his coat. He settled next to Felicity, propping his feet up on the coffee table beside hers. "I knocked and you yelled, 'it's open!'. I could have been anyone. I could have been a murderer."

"Murders don't knock," she pointed out, sipping her tea. "They barge into your apartment and, well, murder you."

"Oh, and you have this vast knowledge of murderers and how they operate?" he countered. "What if you get a really polite murderer?"

"That makes no sense. If they're polite, then why are they murdering people?"

"They could be a sociopath," he argued. "You know, people who seem all nice and civilized on the outside, but then they stab you death? They're the type of murderers that would knock."

She scrunched her nose. "That's actually terrifying."

"And that is why you should keep your door locked."

"Okay, okay," she said dismissively, waving her had in the air. "Enough about potential murderers. Do you want to hear about my first day?"

She had this bright happy look on her face and he grinned.

"That's a good look. That's a very good look. Tell me all about it."

She launched into her story of the whole day, sparing no details. Roger was an attentive audience, nodding and laughing at all the right places.

"Oliver's the VP?" Roger said in disbelief after she told him that part of the story. "You know, so many things make more sense now."

She told him about the lunch and Diggle, and he said, "I'm happy you found someone who is as obsessed with Big Belly Burger as you are. Maybe you'll finally stop forcing me to go there with you."

She grinned. "It was just amazing, Roger. They were so nice and the people in my office are great. I can't believe I'm saying this already, but I feel like I fit there, you know?"

He nodded, smiling softly. "You really do look happy."

"I am," She said. "You know, it's crazy. Oliver said I'd fit in there, and I didn't really believe him. I thought, what does he know? But he was right. It feels right. Like I was always meant to work there or something."

Both of them fell silent for a moment and she asked, "How was work for you today?"

"Boring. Thea stopped by. She was asking about you and if you'd texted me anything about your first day. You should be grateful to hear I did not show her that embarrassing selfie you sent me of you and your ID badge."

She smirked. "Thanks, Roger. You're a good friend."

"Well, I try."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap on chapter six, folks! Hope you enjoyed it! I have some exciting things planned for the next arc of this story. There will be conspiracies, holiday parties, and elevator rides filled with so much unresolved sexual tension you'll think you're reading a Greys Anatomy fic. Get excited!


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks! I hope you enjoy this one! It's another emotional roller coaster!

Felicity never talked about her father. It was one of those things that never really came up, because for all intents and purposes Felicity had a dad, and that's the sort of thing that people ask about. In Felicity's mind there was a difference between a father and a dad. A father was just someone you shared genes with. A dad was something more. It was love, support and care. A dad was someone who showed you how to change a tire, barbecued during summers, and slipped money in your purse when you weren't looking. Most of all, though, a dad was someone who stayed.

Felicity's father left when she was four. She had vague memories of him, augmented by the single photo she found of him and her mom, Janet, stuffed in the back of one of Janet's bedroom drawers. He had been a handsome man. Felicity could see why her mother had been drawn to him with his chiseled jaw, blue eyes and shock of blonde hair. They looked happy in the picture. His arm was thrown around her shoulders, mouth turned in toward her ear as he said something. Whatever he said must have been funny because her mother mid-laugh, eyes bright and one hand brought up to cover her mouth.

Felicity didn't actually remember him leaving, but she'd heard the story enough over the years that it felt like a memory. It was an unusually warm Saturday in October. Her mom was making chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast when her father said he had to run out to the Walgreens around the corner for some cigarettes. He left and never came back.

One year later Felicity's mom was lucky enough to meet Billy Travers, a bank teller from around town. They met through mutual friends, and six months later Felicity was the flower girl at her mother and Billy's wedding. People had told Janet that Billy moving in would be an adjustment. Knowing that your girlfriend had a kid was different than actually living with the kid and having to take care of it, they said. It wouldn't be as easy as she thought. But it was. He fit seamlessly into their lives, so much so that Felicity had difficulty remembering a time when he wasn't there. They were a real family with lively dinners and Friday movie nights where every other week Billy and Janet would sit through whatever Disney movie Felicity chose. He loved them, and they loved him. So, Felicity had a dad. She didn't need a father.

But that didn't stop him from finding her.

She didn't know how he found her cell phone number, but he got it somewhere and called, leaving a stilted message about how he was in Starling City and wanted to meet for dinner. She was glad that she missed the call, because she honestly didn't know how she would have reacted if she had answered her phone and heard his voice. She wondered if she would have recognized him.

Either way, she listened to the message five times, trying to feel some sort of definitive anything that would tell her what to do. She never really thought about her father, but she would have reasoned that her immediate reaction to such a message would be anger. Who was he to reach out to her after all these years? But she didn't feel anger. She didn't feel anything.

The phone call was very much on her mind as she walked into Queen Consolidated. It had been over twenty four hours since the call, and she wondered if it was rude to not respond this long. She didn't know the rules for interacting with estranged fathers.

She placed her bag on the conveyor belt for security to check, and stepped through the metal detector. She didn't set off the machine this morning. A few days back she'd been wearing some heavy metal jewelry and it set off the machine. She had to withstand a remote scanning and a pat down before Diggle passed and told them she was clean.

She picked up her bag again and walked over to the elevators. Oliver stood waiting in the elevator vestibule, and when he saw her he grinned.

"Good morning, Felicity."

"Good morning," she returned. She spied the coffee in his hand and sighed audibly. She hadn't gotten around to making any that morning, and after the night she had, tossing and turning over the damn message, she desperately needed some. Oliver caught the direction of her gaze.

"Felicity, is there a reason you're staring longingly at my coffee?" he asked with a smirk.

"I didn't make any thing morning," she explained. "I was running late. Like, so late you almost forget to put on deodorant late."

"For the sake of the IT department, I hope you remembered."

She laughed, shaking her head. "Yes, I remembered. Anyway, I hope they have some up in the office."

"Here, take mine," Oliver said, offering it to her.

"Oh, no," she said immediately. "I can't take your coffee."

"You're not taking it," he told her levelly. "I am giving it to you. It looks like you need it." She still hesitated and he added, "I didn't drink any of it yet. I picked it up across the street, so it's fresh and hot."

She was going to refuse, but she could smell the coffee even from the small little hole in the top, and she relented.

"You really don't mind?" she asked, reaching out for it. He grinned and pressed the cup in her hand.

"I don't mind one bit. One of the perks of being VP is that you practically have an entire fleet of people whose sole purpose is to get you coffee."

"That is very depressing for those people," she said, taking a sip of the coffee. It tasted like heaven and she closed her eyes reverently. "This is the greatest thing I have ever put in my mouth."

"Do you want me to turn around or something? Give you two some privacy?" he teased.

She laughed at the insinuation and told him, "Oh, shut up."

Oliver smirked and the elevator doors slid open. A few men in business suits walked out, nodding at Oliver and promptly ignoring Felicity. She was used to it. IT didn't exactly garner attention until something wasn't working. Then, you were their favorite person.

Oliver gestured for her to walk in first and she moved forward into the elevator, turning to face the door as he stepped in and pressed his ID badge to the sensor and pressed both of their floors.

The elevator slid up and Felicity was about to say something when it jerked to a stop suddenly, the unexpected movement sending her crashing into the wall.

"Ow," she mumbled, rubbing her elbow. She'd spilled a bit of the coffee on her skirt and she gazed down at the stain unhappily.

Oliver was at her side in a moment and laid a hand on her arm as he asked her, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just hit my funny bone. Which, surprisingly, is not very funny."

Oliver moved over to the emergency phone. He lifted it from the cradle and put it to his ear, frowning when there was no dial tone.

"Oliver?" she asked nervously, noting the expression on his face. She watched him pull out his phone and swear under his breath.

"Oliver, what is it?" she pressed.

"The phone's dead," he explained slowly. "And my phone appears to have no service. What about yours?"

She pulled it out of her purse and shook her head when she saw zero bars of service at the top of her phone. Oliver sighed, turning his attention back to the elevator console. He began pressing buttons and Felicity cleared her throat behind him.

"Um, Oliver, what are you doing?"

"I'm pressing buttons," he returned, as if that made perfect sense in the moment. Which, for the record, it did not.

"And how, exactly, will that help?"

"Maybe one of them will make it start moving again?"

She nodded, trying to appear supportive, as she returned, "Or, once it starts moving again, we'll be stopping at every single floor because of your little Christmas tree game over there."

He glanced back at her. "It's not a game. It might work."

"In what universe will pressing random buttons work? Why don't we just wait? People downstairs are going to notice the elevator isn't moving up or down from this floor. Then they'll get help."

"I think you overestimate the observational skills of people."

She stared at him. "And your solution of pushing all the buttons is any better?"

"Well, what else am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know," she said. She put her purse and the coffee on the floor and lowered herself down, making sure not to accidentally flash him on her way to the floor. "Why don't you just sit down?"

He hesitated and she said, "If in fifteen minutes nothing has happened you can go and push all the buttons you want, okay? But how about for now, we just give it a minute."

"Okay," he relented, moving over to her and sitting next to her on the floor. His legs stretched a good few feet past her, and she smirked at the difference.

"I never realized how much taller than me you are," she noted, nudging his upper shin with the toe of her shoe.

"I didn't either. It's probably because of all those heels you wear."

She grinned. "I do love my heels."

They were quiet for a moment and she cleared her throat a bit before asking, "So, how is Laurel?"

"Good," he said. "I mean, I guess she's good. I actually haven't seen her in a few days."

Felicity glanced over at him. "Oh, okay."

He shook his head, moving his feet and clicking his toes together. "We've been having some problems lately."

Felicity felt her stomach flip, and then immediately guilt crept forward. She shouldn't be happy that Oliver and Laurel were having problems. She shouldn't be anything except supportive. But still, she couldn't deny she wanted to hear more, and Oliver seemed happy to oblige.

"Things have been strained for a while. Since Thea's birthday, probably. We keep having the same fights over and over again. I'm emotionally unavailable. She works too much. It's the same thing every time."

"I'm sorry," she said.

He shrugged. "It's fine. We sort of fell together because it was familiar. Both of us were in between people and we thought, why not? It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"And now?"

"I feel like I keep trying to make it into something it's not."

Then break it off. It seemed so obvious to Felicity. He was unhappy. Laurel was probably unhappy. What good did holding onto something that was already dead do for either of them? Because from where she was sitting, it looked like all it did was hurt both of them.

But she didn't say that. No matter how much she wanted to say what was on her mind, she wouldn't be the person who told him to end things with Laurel. That was something he had to come to on his own.

"So, anyway, what about you and Roger?" he asked.

The question took her off guard and she looked at him in confusion as she asked, "What about us?"

"Have you two ever been involved?"

Just the thought made her burst into laughter. And then she imagined Roger's reaction to the question, and she was laughing so hard that her side hurt.

"I'm guessing that's a no?" Oliver said with a slight grin. "I know you said before that you're just coworkers, but I thought maybe, you know…"

"Sorry, it's just…" she trailed off, wiping at her eyes with her forefinger. "I'm imagining Roger's face if he was here. Um, no. We have never been involved. Never will be."

"Why not?" Oliver pressed. "You two seem to be good together."

It occurred to her that both men in her life seemed to be advocating for the other. Well, look at that.

"Roger's just…Roger," she said, trying to explain the nature of their relationship. They were more than friends, but not quite like anything else. "He's my best friend. I can tell him anything, and he'll tell me anything, even when it makes me want to slap him."

"Okay, so Roger is a no-go," Oliver said, nodding. "Is there anyone else?"

Her breath caught in her throat and she looked down at her lap quickly, trying to calm the mad beating of her heart. Yes, there was someone else. He was sitting beside her and making her wish she hadn't worn a fabric that doesn't breathe.

She took a small breath and told him, "I don't have time to date."

"Okay, but if you did have the time? What then?"

She shrugged. "I'll get back to you when that happens."

He laughed and she felt relief flood her chest. He was buying it.

"Has it been fifteen minutes yet?" he asked after a moment, head turned toward her.

She pressed her lips together and said, "Fine, go press your buttons."

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One hour later he pressed all the buttons and nothing happened. They'd moved to the other side of the elevator for a change of scenery. It looked exactly like the other side of the elevator.

"So, why were you so rushed this morning?" he asked lazily. They'd been talking for so long they'd reach the aimless part of the conversation. "Did you miss your alarm or something? Have an unwieldy house guest?"

He raised his eyebrows with that last suggestion and she laughed, reaching up to adjust her glasses.

"No unwieldy house guests."

"Okay, so it was alarm problems?"

She hesitated and then told him, "No, my, uh, father actually called me yesterday for dinner. My father who I haven't seen in over twenty years. So, I didn't really get much sleep."

"Wow, I'm sorry. I've never heard you mention your dad before," Oliver noted.

"Not my dad," she interjected stubbornly. "My father."

"Okay, your father," he said slowly. "Is there a difference?"

"My dad, Billy Travers, raised me. He was at every graduation. Every birthday party. Every soccer game where I barely touched the ball but he'd still tell me I did a good job. He's my dad. My father, Michael Smoak, is a selfish son of a bitch whose only contribution to my life was his sperm."

Oliver was quiet, and she realized that her diatribe perhaps came a bit out of the blue. But she couldn't help it. Michael Smoak wasn't her dad. He was a stranger.

"I'm sorry," she said after a moment. "I get a little…heated about that. It's one of my things. One of my things I get irrationally defensive about and apparently yell at perfectly nice people asking perfectly normal questions."

"I get it," he said, reaching down and squeezing her knee gently. "And you don't have to apologize. You're entitled to feel however you want to feel."

"That's the thing," she sighed, tilting her head back against the elevator wall. "I don't really know how I feel."

"Are you kidding?" he said. "Because even I think I know, from that three second speech there, how you feel."

She shook her head. "No. I mean, I know how I feel about him being my dad. He's not. That's simple. But, all of this now? Him calling me? I have no idea how I feel about that."

"How do you want to feel about it?" he asked.

She turned her gaze to him. "That's a loaded question. I don't know. I guess I thought I'd be pissed. You know, I'd call my mom immediately and tell her how ridiculous this all was. But, I'm not pissed. I'm not really anything."

"Maybe that's okay," he murmured.

"What?"

"Maybe you don't have to be anything about all of this," he said, shrugging against the elevator wall.

"Well, then how the hell am I supposed to know whether I should go or not?" she said, feeling even more helpless than she had before.

"If it were me, I'd go," he said. "I'd want to hear what he had to say."

"I don't really care what he has to say," she said softly.

"Don't you, though?" he pressed gently. "I'm not saying that what he says will make what he did right. He fucked up in the absolute worst way. But, wouldn't you at least want to know why he did it?"

And she did.

Sitting with Oliver Queen, in a stalled elevator, Felicity let herself admit for the first time that she actually did want to hear his side of the story. It wouldn't set things right, and she knew that it would never repair their broken relationship, but that didn't matter. That wasn't why she'd be going.

"I don't think I'll know what to say," she said in a small voice. "Facing him, you know? After all these years?"

"Hand me your phone," Oliver said, turning his palm up next to her.

"My phone?" she asked in confusion.

"Yeah, hand it over."

She dug it out of her purse and handed it to him. She watched him swipe into it and said, "You know, there's still no service."

"I don't need service for this."

She watched him pull up her contact list and then add himself. He typed quickly, and when he was done he handed it back to her and said, "If you need something to say, you can text me and I'll help you out."

She smiled softly. "And you're the foremost expert on uncomfortable dinners between estranged family members?"

"Not really," he said. "But, I'm great at icebreakers. Like, who is your favorite Beatle? That's always a good one."

She laughed, shaking her head. "That's awful."

"But it made you smile," he returned with a soft triumphant grin. "So, I consider that a win."

She went to say something, but suddenly the elevator began moving. Both of them scrambled to standing, and they watched with bated breath as the elevator stopped at the next floor and the doors slid open. They stood silently, watching the doors close and the elevator glided up to the next floor. The doors slid open and shut.

"It's going to do this on every floor now, isn't it?" Felicity murmured.

The doors slid open and shut.

"Yes. Yes, it is."

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Felicity met her father at one of the downtown restaurants that she rarely frequented. In her mind, she didn't want the meeting to ruin one of her favorite restaurants if the dinner went poorly.

She was concerned that she wouldn't recognize him, but she knew him the moment he walked into the restaurant. His blonde hair had thinned, and the jawline was less defined, but it was undeniably the man from the picture.

She rose shakily from the table, giving him a small wave. He walked over and she noticed that he looked just about as nervous as she felt. He had his hat balled up in one hand, and he stuffed it in his pocket before reaching his hand out toward her gingerly.

"Hello Felicity."

"Hello," she said politely, taking his hand and shaking it gently.

"Thank you for having dinner with me," he said, sitting down. "To be honest, I didn't know if you'd say yes."

"I didn't either," she admitted.

"You look beautiful," he noted, smiling a bit. "You look so much like your mom. Except for your hair." He paused a bit and added, "You got that from me."

"I dye it actually," Felicity told him, reaching for the goblet of water and taking a sip.

"Oh, really?"

She nodded.

"Well, that's…it suits you."

"Why did you want to have dinner?" she asked, wanting to cut to the chase. This was why they were there after all, wasn't it? They weren't there to catch up. There weren't enough niceties between them for that.

"I wanted to see how you were," he said sheepishly. "I heard you were just hired at Queen Consolidated. I have a buddy there. He recognized your last name."

She blinked. "You have a buddy there?"

He nodded. "Yeah, someone in public relations. They called me up and asked if we were related-"

"You're not here on business, are you?" she interrupted, feeling her cheeks redden.

He had the courtesy to look uncomfortable as he admitted, "No, I'm not."

She didn't say anything, too surprised for words. She reached for the water again blindly and nearly knocked it over.

"I'm sorry that I lied to you," he explained slowly. "I just thought it would be easier if you thought I was here for, well, other reasons besides you."

"I don't understand," she said, shaking her head. "Why now? Why, after all these years, did you suddenly feel the need to check up on me?"

"Felicity-"

"I don't need you to check up on me," she said. "I'm fine. I've been fine, and no thanks to you. I've been fine despite you."

"You're angry," he noted flatly.

"I'm angry?" she repeated incredulously, nearly rising from the table. "Of course, I'm angry! You left! You…" she trailed off, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I know that doesn't make anything different, but you have to know that I'm sorry. I regret that I did that to you and your mom every day."

"Oh really? So, that's why we haven't heard from you in over twenty years?"

His fingers curled around the edge of the table and she noticed that his knuckles were white.

"I came back," he said after a moment, voice pained.

She stared at him. "What?"

"A year later, I came back." He saw the incredulous look on her face and said, "Not for the reasons you think. I wasn't going to try to get you both back. I know I messed that up too much. But, you…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "You were still so young. I thought I had a chance to still be in your life, at least a little. Your mom would have fought me, but I was willing to fight."

She listened in silence, her chest hurting so badly that she wanted to scream.

"But then I saw you with him," he said softly. "Your step-dad. You guys were playing in the front yard, and you just looked so happy. He was picking you up and you were laughing. I knew then that coming back would only have complicated that. And I didn't want to do that."

"You honestly expect me to believe that?" she asked in a low voice.

"I kept tabs on you afterwards," he continued, reaching down into a bag next to his chair. She hadn't noticed him bring it in. He pulled out a weathered scrapbook. "Well, I kept tabs on you as best as I could. It wasn't as easy to get out of town newspapers then, but I found a way."

She flipped open the scrapbook, hands trembling when her eight year old self smiled up at her, large trophy in her hands. She remembered that interview. It was for the Cambridge Gazette and she'd just won the district spelling bee. She turned the page and there were pictures from the silly little plays she did in junior high. The next page housed a small announcement from when her mathletes team won nationals, her name circled in black marker.

She felt overwhelmed. Her body was tingling, and she swore she could feel the pulsating of her heart in her ears. This changed things. All those years, all the things she thought she knew, it was wrong. She thought he hadn't cared. She thought he'd left and never looked back, but he had. He'd been looking back ever since.

He was silent, watching her with barely veiled nerves. She understood his anxiety at not knowing how she would react to all of this. She didn't even really know how she would react to all of it, and she was in the middle of it all.

"I don't expect you to let me be a part of your life again," he said, breaking the silence. "I can't expect that much. But, I just hope this will…I don't know…let you know that I care about you, even if I it hasn't seemed that way."

She paused, blinking rapidly. She had no idea what to say. She didn't know if she wanted to forgive him. She didn't know if she wanted to hate him. She didn't know, anything. But she decided that was okay. She thought of Oliver, and what he had told her in the elevator. She didn't have to know everything, not today.

So, she took a deep breath, and asked him, "Who is your favorite Beatle?"

He stared at her. "Excuse me?"

"Your favorite Beatle," she repeated. "Do you have one?"

There was a beat of silence and then he laughed, the sound loud, unexpected, and the best possible thing that could have happened. She felt herself relax.

"Lennon," he said. "He had balls."

She nodded. "Interesting. Very interesting."

He smiled, she smiled, and just like that, the ice was thawed. There still was a lot between them that was unresolved, and she didn't know if it every fully would be. But, it was a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this! Sorry about the lack of Roger. He will play more prominently in the next chapter! Fair warning - I am in the midst of serious finals studying, so next chapter will likely not be up until the end of the week/early weekend. But, in the meantime, I would LOVE to hear you thoughts on this one :)


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks! I hope you enjoy this one!

 Chapter Eight

            Felicity drove through the forest preserve, reaching up and adjusting her rearview mirror as she checked her lipstick.  She’d left in a bit of a rush because her alarm hadn’t gone off, and she’d barely squeezed in a cup of coffee before she was running out of the door.  She already was working at a loss with her usual work route riddled with construction. Springtime had just arrived and that meant Starling city’s public workers were out in full force fixing the streets and potholes.  She decided to take an alternate route.

            She liked the forest preserve at this time of year.  The trees were all blooming, speckles of light pouring down onto her windshield through the array of buds.  There also was minimal traffic.  The route took most people who worked in the city out of their way, so it was sparsely traveled.  That was all the better for Felicity, though.  She rolled down her windows and blasted her radio, singing along loudly to _Hold On_ by Wilson Phillips. She slowed down to a stop sign as she reached the end of the forest preserve, lightly pressing her foot on the break, and coming to a rolling stop. 

            It was as she moved her foot to the gas that something hard and solid rammed into the passenger side of her car.  She shrieked, slamming back into her seat as she watched the deer that hit her shirk around the car and run off into the forest again.  Felicity sat frozen, heart slamming against her chest. She could hear her pulse in her ears, oddly in time with the music still playing.

            A car pulled up on the crossroad and stopped properly, waiting for her to go. She shakily waved him on before reaching to the side and opening the door.  She walked around to the passenger side and made a strangled noise when she saw the large dent on the side of her car.

            “You have got to be kidding me,” she breathed out unhappily.

            She walked around to the driver’s side of the car and climbed in, locking the door behind her as if it would somehow ward off further deer. She recognized the best course of action was probably to get the hell out of the forest preserve, so she started her car and drove off, eyeing the last clusters of trees warily.

            Already running behind, plus her little deer accident, Felicity ended up being more than a little late to work.  She swiped in sheepishly, hoping that no one would notice her. She went up to the floor and was surprised to see the IT department largely empty.  She walked into her cubicle and shrugged off her coat, hanging it on the back of her chair.  She heard someone walk by and peeked outside of her cubicle.  One of the other IT girls, Margaret, stood in front of the water cooler.

            “Hey, do you know where everyone is?” Felicity asked.    

            “We have that board meeting, remember?  IT is presenting on our network upgrades.”

            “Oh my God,” Felicity breathed out, her vision shifting. The board meeting. It was Tuesday. Why had she forgotten it was Tuesday?

            “Aren’t you presenting on the work you’ve been doing on security’s firewall?” Margaret asked, sipping her water.

            “I have to go,” Felicity said hurriedly. 

            She rushed toward the door, only to remember that her presentation was saved on a flash drive on her kitchen table.  She’d been working on it the night before, putting some finishing touches on the slides. It was a work of power point art when she’d finished it.  A work of art that no one would see.

            She chanted a line of swear words in her head as she took the elevator to the appropriate floor.  She didn’t know what would happen next.  Mike had gone on and on earlier about how lucky she was to be presenting when she was still so new, and she’d promised him that she wouldn’t let the team down.

            So much for that.

            The elevator doors slid open and she walked out, anxiously looking around as she waited for someone to come out of the shadows and yell at her. Because that was on the horizon. Yes.  Getting yelled at was definitely on the horizon.

            She walked up to the boardroom, only to see that her Mike was mid-presentation. She could hear snippets of the speech and blanched when she realized he was giving her presentation – or as best as he could on such short notice.  What he lacked in visuals he made up for with gestures.

            She went to turn around, cheeks stained red in embarrassment, but it was then that she realized she was standing in front of a full glass door and half of the room had already spotted her.

            “Shit, shit, shit,” she murmured, taking a deep breath before opening the door and slipping in.  The table was completely filled, and she awkwardly went over and sat in one of the chairs at the side of the room.  Mike paused for a moment to send her a steely glare before continuing.

 

* * *

 

 

            Three presentations later there was a break in the programming, and they went off to a side room for light refreshments.  Felicity poured herself a coffee, glancing around furtively to see if Mike was anywhere near.  She was in full flight mode, prepared to move across the room at lightening speed if she spotted him. 

            “Hi there,” Oliver said from behind her. 

She jumped, hand floating to her chest.

“Oliver. Hi.”

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said, laughing slightly as he reached forward and plucked a blueberry muffin from the platter in front of her. 

“It’s not you,” she told him. “I’m just a little jumpy.”

He glanced over at her. “Why’s that?”

They walked to a table and settled down next to each other.

“Well, I was in a minor accident this morning.”

“What?” he said, reaching over and laying a hand on her arm impulsively.  “Are you okay?”

She nodded quickly, peeling the liner off her muffin and breaking off a piece.

“I’m fine. It wasn’t a bad accident. But, it shook me up. And then walking in late like that in the middle of what was supposed to be my presentation.” She exhaled loudly. “It hasn’t been the best morning.”

“Well, an accident is a valid reason to be late to things,” he told her sensibly.

“I don’t know if Mike will feel that way.  He was sending me major hate vibes the entire time I was in there.”

“I’ll write you a note,” Oliver teased.  “Tell him to get off your back.”

Felicity snorted. “If it comes to that I’ll let you know.”

Oliver nodded, taking a sip of his coffee.  Felicity glanced around, watching people file past the oblong table stocked with coffee, muffins and fruit.

“So, what happened?” Oliver asked.

“Well, I was hit by a deer,” Felicity said, popping a piece of muffin into her mouth.

“You hit a deer?” Oliver said in surprise.

She shook her head. “No, I was hit _by_ a deer.  It hit me.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not. I was just sitting at the stop sign, minding my own business, when it ran out of the forest and….” she mimed a collision with her hands, making a crashing noise with her mouth.

Oliver smirked. “You’re lucky it didn’t hit the driver’s side.”

“Actually, I think the lucky thing would be a deer not hitting my car at all.”  She slumped in her seat, picking up her coffee and bringing it to her mouth.  “Now I have to take it in and be without my car _again_.”

“Well, don’t worry about that,” Oliver said.  “I’d be happy to drive you.”

“I’m going to get a rental,” she told him.  “I have a feeling this won’t be as quick of a fix.”

“Will you at least let me take your car to my guy?” Oliver asked.  “I don’t think I could handle you being screwed over by the dealer twice in four months.”

Felicity took another bite of her muffin.

“Sure, why not,” she said through a full mouth.  She swallowed and then asked, “Do you think your fancy mechanic can make my car deer repellent? Because that would be grand.”

Oliver laughed. “I don’t think that’s in the service catalogue.  But, you know what, I’ll ask.”

“That is greatly appreciated.”

“I’ll take you after work today.  I’m assuming you want to get it fixed as soon as possible?”

She nodded. “You assumed correctly.”

“I’ll have my secretary call and make an appointment.”

“Felicity, it’s nice of you to join us,” Mike said, standing over them.  Felicity swallowed hard.

“I’m really sorry I missed my presentation,” she said.  “But you were doing a great job.  I really dug the hand gestures.”

“Felicity was in a car accident this morning,” Oliver interjected smoothly.  “That is why she was late to the meeting.”

It seemed to register then for Mike that he was standing in front of his boss, and he cleared his throat before stammering, “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.  What-what happened?”

“A deer hit me,” Felicity said.

“You hit a deer?”

“No,” Felicity sighed. “A deer hit _me_.  Why is this so hard for everyone to understand?”

“In our defense, it is pretty unusual,” Oliver tried. 

Felicity spotted Diggle walk into the room and he gestured toward Oliver.  The other man nodded, lightly pressing his palms on the table as he rose.

“VP duty calls. I will see you all back in the boardroom.”

Felicity was mid coffee sip and nodded haphazardly as she murmured, “Mhm, sure.  We’ll see you in there.”

Oliver gave Mike a nod before heading off toward the boardroom.  Mike glanced down at Felicity.

“I’m sorry to hear about your accident,” he said awkwardly.

“It really wasn’t that bad,” she said. 

“Good. Good…well…” he gave a sort of nod and then turned on his heel, disappearing into the crowd. Felicity continued to eat her muffin in silence, thinking to herself that in moments like these it was very convenient being good friends with the vice president of the company.

Some time later the group shuffled back into the boardroom.  Felicity walked in, fully expecting to sit back at the side of the room, but she saw that there miraculously was an unoccupied seat at the table. She sat down, trying to keep herself from looking at Oliver – who no doubt made room for her at the table – and failing miserably.  

 

* * *

 

 

            The board meeting took much of the day, but when it ended there were still a few hours left in the workday.  Felicity went back up to IT and worked diligently, hoping to get back in Mike’s good graces by showing him just how dedicated and hardworking she was. He had to know that under any other circumstances, she wouldn’t have messed up like she had that morning.

            By the time five o’clock rolled around she had thawed him considerably, and when she packed up her stuff and said bye to him, he even offered her a smile. She was heading down to the Queen Consolidated lobby when her phone rang.  It was a weird ring tone that she definitely hadn’t downloaded herself.  It was vaguely familiar, and as she dug her phone out of her purse she recognized the song as _I Won’t Say I’m In Love_ by Hercules.  Oliver’s name flashed on the screen.

            “I am so going to kill you, Roger,” she mumbled, shaking her head as she clicked into the call.  She was never leaving her phone alone with him again.

            “Hi Oliver,” she said.  “What’s up?”

            “I’m running a few minutes behind.  Do you mind waiting downstairs for me for a few minutes?”

            “Yeah, that’s fine.,” she said, taking a seat at one of the benches at the front of the lobby.  “I’m already in the lobby, so just come down when you’re ready.”

            “I shouldn’t be long.”

            “You finish up your VP things.  I’m good down here.”

            “Okay,” he said, smile evident in his voice.  “I’ll see you in a few.”

            She hung up and leaned back against the wall, stretching her legs out in front of her. Remembering the ringtone from before, she quickly texted Roger.

 

_Nice ringtone._

_Oh, btw, you are dead to me._

            Her phone buzzed almost immediately.

 

_I have no idea what you’re talking about._

            She shook her head, quickly typing a response.

 

_You set “I Won’t Say I’m In Love” as my ringtone for when Oliver calls._

_Don’t even try to deny it._

            A few moments later her phone buzzed.

 

_Oh yeah.  That was definitely me._

_Maybe it will help you get your head out of your ass._

_And admit you like him._

            Felicity typed back furiously.

 

_My head is nowhere remotely near my ass._

_Remember how he has a girlfriend?_

_Yeah.  Right._

_I win this argument._

Never one to be upped in a texting battle, Roger responded promptly.

_The girlfriend is an invalid argument._

_Because we both know ALL you have to do is show interest._

_And the girlfriend is history._

            She scowled at her phone.  It buzzed again.

 

_And you should know better than to leave your phone with me._

_Because I am a diabolical prankster._

_Mwahhhhaaaa_

            Felicity snorted at his paltry attempt at a text-evil-laugh. She went to text him back when she spotted Diggle walking toward her.  She gave him a small wave and he nodded in return.

            “Hi Digg,” she said brightly, putting her phone back in her purse.

            “You know most people leave the building when they’re done with work,” he teased.

            “Well, I’m not most people.”

            Diggle laughed.  “No, you’re not. Really, though, what’s up?”

            “I’m waiting for Oliver,” she said.  “He’s running late, though.  VP things.”

            Diggle grinned wide.  “He finally manned up, huh?”

            She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

            “I’ve been telling him to ask you out ever since he ended things with Laurel. Of course, he kept dragging his heels, but –“

            “Oliver didn’t ask me out,” she interjected quickly, cheeks flushing. Diggle looked just about as flustered as she felt, and she said, “He’s following me to the mechanic. I had a little fender bender this morning.”

            “Oh, um…” Diggle trailed off, rubbing at his jaw uncomfortably.

            “Wait, so Oliver and Laurel broke up?”  Felicity asked, mind whirring at a pace so fast she could barely keep up with all the questions in her head.  “When did that happen?”

            “It’s probably not my place to say anything.”  She gave him a look.  “A few weeks ago.”

            “A few weeks?”

            She couldn’t believe it.  He’d been single for that long and hadn’t said anything.  She wasn’t expecting a grand announcement or anything, but you’d think it would come up in conversation.  Granted, she’d made it a rule recently to not ask about Laurel, because the conversation always made her upset. But how had it not come up? They talked practically every day.

            “Look, he was probably going to tell you.”

            She shook her head.  “No, why would he tell me?  It doesn’t affect me at all. I’m just…” she trailed off, hating herself for getting upset.  She had no right to be upset.  What he did with his life was his choice, and so was what he chose to share with her.

            She spotted Oliver walking toward her from the elevators and she stood. Diggle glanced back at Oliver and then quickly said, “Felicity, what I said before-“

            “Don’t worry,” she said, voice hard.  “I’ve already forgotten it.”

            He looked like he wanted to say more, but then Oliver joined them and anything pertaining to their previous conversation necessarily had to end.

            “Diggle, this is a pleasant surprise,” Oliver said congenially.

            “I actually was just on my way back upstairs,” Diggle said.  Felicity gave him a look, knowing full well that he had been on his way out before.  “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

            He rushed off and Oliver said, “Is it just me or was he acting strange?”

            “I don’t know,” Felicity said, heading toward the door.  “He seemed just fine to me.”

            Oliver followed, sparking some inane conversation as she tried to keep herself from snapping at him.  Really, what would be best for her right then was to be far away from Oliver Queen, but she was forced now to spend a good part of the evening with him. She frowned, inwardly cursing that stupid deer who had to go hit her car and make her life difficult.

            They walked into the parking garage and headed toward the elevators. Oliver pressed the up button with his thumb, and they waited in silence for the doors to slide open. When they did, both stepped inside.

            “You’re quiet,” he noted.  “Everything okay?”

            She nodded.  “Yep.”

            “Mike didn’t lay into you about this morning or anything? Because it really was out of your hands.”

            “Mike and I are fine,” she returned crisply.  “We’re good again.  Our best friend necklaces are in the mail.”

            Oliver looked at her strangely, noting the bitterness in her voice. “Um, okay.”

            The elevator doors slid open and they moved out and walked toward his car. It was actually more of a she walked and he followed thing.  She knew she should have been trying to engage him in conversation, for propriety’s sake, but she was too angry.  Whether it was warranted or not, she was swept up in it and she didn’t know how to make it stop beyond finishing off a bottle of wine or yelling at him.

            “Hey,” he said, gently taking a hold of his arm.  “What’s going on with you?”

            “Nothing,” she said, prying her hand from his grasp.  “I’m just tired.  It’s been a long day.  Let’s just go to the mechanic and get this over with.”

            “Okay,” he said.  “I’ll pull up and then you follow me.”

            She nodded, pulling her car keys out of her purse.  “Got it.”

            He walked off to his car, which was parked a few rows down, and she got into her car, wondering just how much longer she could go before the floodgates fully opened.  Because if she wasn’t sure before, her reaction to Diggle’s news made it pretty damn clear that she had feelings for Oliver.  And the realization only added to her aggravation.

            “Stupid boys and their stupid lies,” she murmured, putting her car into reverse when she spotted Oliver’s car approaching in her mirror. She pulled out of her parking spot and followed Oliver out of the parking garage.  The mechanic ended up not being too far from Queen Consolidated, and all she had to do was fill out a few forms and hand over her keys, and before she knew it she was sitting in the passenger seat of Oliver’s Ferrari F430, pointedly avoiding conversation as she gazed out the window.

            “Will you please tell me what’s going on with you?” he asked, glancing over at her. “And I swear to God, if you tell me nothing I am pulling over.”

            “It’s just been a long day,” she said.

            “I’m not buying that,” he said resolutely.  “What’s going on?”

            She paused, watching the scenery pass outside the window. 

            “We’re friends, right?” she asked slowly.  “Because I thought we were.  I even thought we were pretty good friends.”

            “Of course we’re friends,” he said.

            “And friends share significant life changes with friends,” she continued.

            “I suppose they do.”

            “Then, um, why didn’t you tell me that you and Laurel broke up? Because that seems like the type of thing you share with a friend.  Especially when you see them every day.”

            “Who told you?” he asked.

            “That’s not important,” she said, shaking her head.  “Why didn’t you tell me?  I mean, you told me about your relationship.  You told me about how you were having problems.  Why wouldn’t you tell me _this_?”

            “It just didn’t come up,” he said simply. 

            “It didn’t come up,” she repeated, laughing at the absurdity of it all. “Really?  That’s what you’re going with?  _It didn’t come up_?”

            “Yeah,” he said, glancing over at her.  “It didn’t come up.  Look, I didn’t mean to upset you.  If I knew it meant this much to you, I would have told you.”

            “It doesn’t,” she said immediately, defenses going up. “It doesn’t mean anything to me. What you do in your private life is your business.  Obviously.”

            She fell silent, thinking about Roger’s constant comments about Oliver’s feelings for her, and then what Diggle said earlier.  Were they wrong?  She might have openly – and vehemently – rejected Roger’s comments on Oliver having a thing for her before, but secretly she’d always thought he might have been right.  He seemed to always be there – even before they legitimately became friends.  And then he got her the job at Queen Consolidated. He kept sweeping in like some super hero of her dreams, but could it really just be because he was her friend?

            She turned her attention back out the window, feeling his gaze on her every so often as they continued toward her apartment in silence. 

            “Well, here we are,” he said, pulling to a stop in front of her building and unlocking the doors.

            “Yes, here we are,” she echoed, the utterance seeming to hold some deeper meaning. Here they were. At the exact same place they always were, yet everything felt different.  She went to leave the car when he stopped her.

            “Felicity, wait.”

            She glanced back at him, hand still on the door handle.  “Yeah?”

            “Are we okay?” 

            The question hung in the air as she stared at him, her body suddenly thrumming with nervous energy.  It was like her body knew what was happening a beat before her mind.  But it was catching up.  She thought about Roger’s texts and how if she just did something, if she did _anything_ , things could be different.  And maybe they could. Maybe she could be different, and _they_ could be different.

            She did it without really thinking.  She reached forward and grabbed his face, leaning forward and pressing her mouth against his.  Her stomach flipped, and she could feel every nerve ending ignite.  He tasted like cinnamon.  His hand found the curve of her elbow and he leaned into the kiss just as she pulled away.

            “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she murmured, quickly opening the car door and slipping out of the car.  He was too stunned to follow.  She opened the door and glanced back at the street, lightheaded when she saw him still watching her from the car.  She closed the door behind her and took a moment to catch her breath.

            She kissed Oliver Queen.  In his car. And she was pretty sure he would have kissed her back if she hadn’t left so quickly.  Well.  The day just kept on surprising her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...that happened. I must have rewritten that scene three or four times and I am very happy with how it turned out. Hopefully you are, too! Quick note - I shamelessly lifted the deer storyline from an episode of Gilmore Girls. It just seemed so much like something that would happen to Felicity. Anyhoo, I hope you enjoyed this!


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks! I hope you enjoy this one!

Felicity closed the apartment door behind her, hand lingering on the door knob as what just happened replayed in her mind. She kissed Oliver Queen. Her mouth was against his mouth, and it was not unpleasant. In fact, it was nice. It was very nice, and all other thoughts aside, she couldn't help but wonder when it would happen again. If it would happen again.

She walked over to the couch and dropped her purse on the cushions, unable to stop the wide grin that pulled at her mouth. She leaned over and reached into her purse to grab her phone. She wasn't one to kiss and tell, but there was no way she wasn't telling Roger.

There was a knock on the door and she glanced back, quickly finishing her text and throwing her phone back in her purse. She walked over to the door and opened it, surprised to find Oliver standing on the other side. They both stood there for a moment in silence.

"Oliver, what-"

He stepped forward suddenly, hand slipping around the curve of her neck as he crashed his mouth against hers. She stumbled backwards clumsily, but his other arm wound around her waist, keeping her in place. She dimly heard the door slam shut, but had no idea how.

They moved backwards, Felicity not caring much where they were headed as she pressed herself against him, fingers threaded through his hair. But their trajectory did matter when she rammed into an end table and sent a pile of books on the edge of the table crashing to the floor.

Neither of them seemed to care much, correcting the collision with a slight change in direction, and then the back of Felicity's legs hit the couch and they were horizontal, Oliver's hand dipping under her skirt to feel the softness of her thigh. He pulled his mouth to her neck and Felicity gasped for breath, her entire body feeling as if it were on fire as his fingers brushed her bare skin. She wriggled beneath him, seeking some contact just out of reach, and he groaned softly before pulling away and straightening to a seated position. She propped herself up on her elbows, breathing ragged.

"Oliver?"

"I need to stop now, otherwise I won't be able to," he said huskily. He reached forward and tucked an errant strand of hair that had come loose from her ponytail behind her ear. She quickly reached up and grabbed his wrist, keeping his palm against her cheek.

"For the record, I'd be okay with the not stopping."

He chuckled. "Believe it or not, I only came up here to kiss you."

"Well, you did that very well."

He leaned forward and kissed her gently. He sat back and cleared his throat, something passing over his face. Felicity sat up and tentatively laid her hand on his knee.

"What is it?"

"I need to tell you something. Before we go any further."

"Okay," she said gingerly. "What is it?"

He paused for a moment and then said, "There is a reason that I didn't tell you about the breakup."

She felt her stomach squirm. She didn't care about that right now. Not when they had just been doing what they'd been doing on the couch. But she nodded anyway, signaling him to continue.

"We sort of broke up because of you."

Felicity blinked. "You what?"

"I mean, there were a lot of reasons, but you were one of them. Laurel heard things. And then, I don't know, I guess I mentioned you a lot. She accused me of cheating on her with you. Of having feelings for you. And although the first part wasn't true, I couldn't deny the second part."

Felicity felt as if a million butterflies had just hatched in her stomach.

"But I didn't know how you felt. And telling you how it ended if you didn't feel anything…" he shook his head. "It was cowardly. I know that. But then you kissed me downstairs…"

"For the record, I don't usually do that," she said. "Randomly kiss men in cars, I mean. Sometimes I'll, you know, give a peck on the cheek if it's a guy friend. But even that's pretty rare, because people can get a weird read off of it, and, I usually try to avoid that."

He was gazing at her with this sort of content smirk and she cleared her throat a bit, feeling her cheeks redden at his constant gaze. He reached forward and laid his hand on her cheek.

"God, I love it when you blush," he murmured, and she turned her cheek in toward his palm.

"I should leave," he said, although he made no movement from the couch. His free hand found its way to her leg and it began to inch higher.

"Okay."

"Really, right now," he said, inching forward. "I should go."

"Mhm," she hummed, eyes drifting shut when his lips brushed the curve of her jaw. Her hands slipped into his suit jacket, feeling the ripples of his abdomen through the material of his shirt.

"I'm double parked out front," he said, rolling his shoulders for her as she pulled his suit jacket off.

"I'll pay off your ticket," she told him, taking a hold of his tie and tugging his mouth to hers again. He was finished arguing then.

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB

Several hours and an order of Chinese takeout later Felicity snuck into her bathroom, phone clutched in her hand. She'd thrown on Oliver's shirt and messily fastened a few of the buttons. As she closed the door she paused, grinning at the sight of Oliver wrapped up in her bubblegum pink sheets. She shut the door and quickly scrolled to Roger's number. He picked up after one ring.

"This better be good," he said. "You're interrupting The Late Show."

"Oliver Queen is in my bed," she blurted softly, her stomach flipping at the mere words, despite her being treated to both the sight and experience prior.

"You're kidding."

"Nope," she said, popping the "p".

"Then what the hell are you doing on the phone with me?" Roger asked.

"He's asleep," she said. "Apparently VPs fall asleep early. Anyway…" she trailed off, smiling to herself. "This is really happening. Or at least I think it is. Whatever this is. We haven't exactly defined it."

"You kissed, what, five hours ago? You have time, Felicity."

"I know, we do," she agreed softly.

"Alright, unless you have some other earthshattering thing to tell me go back out there and snuggle with your VP. Fallon's about to play beer pong with Meryl Streep, which requires my full attention."

She smirked. "Enjoy your beer pong."

"Enjoy your VP."

She clicked out of the call, smiling briefly at her reflection before opening the bathroom door. Oliver was awake now and blearily asked, "Were you talking on your phone in there?"

She shook her head quickly, pausing to reach back and place her phone on the bathroom counter. She walked back into her bedroom and climbed into bed, curling up beside him. He rested his hand on her hip, casually brushing his thumb back and forth.

"You look nice in my shirt, by the way."

She grinned, turning her face in toward his chest. "I might just keep it."

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"So, I noticed this on your nightstand," he said, reaching over and grabbing a small scrapbook. Felicity, circa 1993, grinned wide from the cover of the scrapbook, donning some of the 90's best fashion. She blanched and immediately went to grab it from him, but he was too quick and held it out of her reach.

"Oliver-"

"Wait, so, I think this is really great," Oliver said, pushing himself up to a seating position. She groaned, resting her chin on the side of his arm as he pointed at the picture and said, "It takes a lot of personality to pull of a hat like that."

"I'll have you know that was the height of fashion in 1993."

Oliver snorted, flipping open the scrapbook. It had been years since Felicity had actually looked through it. The book had been a gift from her parents when she graduated college. They told her how proud they were that their little girl had grown up to be such a strong and accomplished woman, and that the scrapbook was a reminder of just how much she had grown.

Oliver flipped through the pages, pausing when he reached a crop of Halloween photos. There was one of her as a scarecrow. Another as Minnie Mouse. Another as the lady from American Goth.

"Are you the lady from that farmer painting here?" Oliver asked, tapping the photo.

"Uh huh," she said. "I was a very strange child."

He turned the page and laughed when he saw her dressed Princess Leia. "Very nice."

"That wig was a bitch," she noted, yawning a bit. "I stopped wearing it about fifteen minutes into trick or treating and then yelled at everyone when they asked if I was a ghost. The yelling was pretty irrational considering without the wig it's literally just a white dress. But, I was angry on principal."

Oliver laughed. "Well, in your defense you don't come across many rational six year olds."

"Seven," she corrected him. "1995 was a very big Star Wars year for me."

"You know, I went as Han Solo for Halloween one year when I was little," Oliver said.

She grinned up at him. "You did? You know, I could totally picture that. You're a Han Solo kind of guy."

He laughed. "I loved it. My mom, not so much. I kept pretending I was shooting everyone. She apparently thought that was bad form."

Felicity snorted, slipping her arm around his and hugging it to her chest. He continued to flip through, pausing now and then to comment on a photograph. Felicity indulged him, even letting him linger on some of the more embarrassing photographs. It just felt so nice laying there in her bed and flipping through that scrapbook like it was something they always did. It felt like he had always been there next to her, and she had to keep reminding herself it had only been a few hours.

She was perfectly content until Oliver flipped the page and her naked baby self grinned up from the bathtub. She quickly grabbed the scrapbook from him and flipped it closed.

"And that ends this journey through Felicity's childhood pictures."

"You're no fun," he teased.

"I draw the line at naked baby pictures," she told him crisply. "Considering what we did a few hours ago...way too weird."

He laughed. "Fair enough."

She reached over him and put the scrapbook back on the nightstand. Oliver's phone was on the nightstand, and she noticed that the screen had lit up. Tommy's name flashed on the screen.

"Oliver, I think Tommy is calling you."

"What?" Oliver said, glancing over and grabbing his phone. He groaned and went to end the call when Felicity touched his wrist and said, "No, answer it."

He hesitated before swiping into the call.

"Tommy, what's going on?"

She heard the buzz of another voice but couldn't pick out any particular words. Tommy must have been saying something bad because Oliver sat up suddenly, the cover pooling at his waist.

"What? What happened?"

There was the buzz of Tommy's voice again, and then Oliver asked, "Is the damage bad?"

Felicity sat up, looking at him with concern. What was damaged? And more importantly, why did Oliver look like he just was told someone died?

"Shit, yeah, I'll be right there," Oliver said. He hung up, shaking his head as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He reached down and grabbed his boxers, quickly slipping them on.

Felicity watched from the bed, unsure whether she should ask what happened or wait for him to tell her. After a few moments of tense silence she decided to ask him herself.

"Oliver, what's wrong?"

"It's Verdant," he said. "There's been a fire."

"What?" she said loudly. "A fire? But – what happened?"

"I don't know," he said, buttoning his pants. "But I need to get down there. Tommy's freaking out."

"Yeah, I can imagine." she said. "What about you? Are you okay?"

He nodded. "I'm fine. I just need to get down there and see exactly how much damage there is and…"

He paused for a moment, eyes landing on the shirt that Felicity was currently wearing. She noticed the direction of his gaze and glanced down.

"Oh. Your shirt."

She quickly slipped it off and then pulled the sheet up to cover herself. He sheepishly buttoned the front, silence stretching between them. Being completely naked in the bed with him now fully dressed suddenly made Felicity feel incredibly bare. She pulled the cover up higher, tucking it under chin.

"I'm really sorry I have to leave," he said, walking around to her side of the bed and cupping her cheek with his hand. "If it was anything less than a fire…"

"Go," she said, covering his hand with hers. "I'll be fine here. It's not like I haven't slept alone before."

"Let me drive you to work tomorrow," he said.

"You don't have to," she said softly.

"I want to," he returned simply, grinning slightly. "I'll be here around 8:30."

She nodded. "Okay."

He kissed her softly and then left. She waited until she heard the front door open and close before she laid back down, breathing in his scent that lingered on the pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I considered drawing out the post-kiss. I even had an entire scene wrote where Felicity was freaking out with Roger, and while I do regret not being able to use some of those lines (seriously - I had some winners) I ultimately thought this way was truer to the characters. Also, I've drawn this out for eight chapters now. Let's give them a little fluffiness before I bring in the next wave of drama ;)
> 
> I'd love to hear your thoughts on this!


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are wonderful. I hope you enjoy this!

Chapter Ten

  Oliver and Tommy sat at one of their club’s bars, idly drinking beer as they settled down from the action of the night.  There was no official word on the source of the fire yet, but the fire chief suspected it came from someone smoking a cigarette in the back of the club. There was some wiring nearby for the sound equipment that had caught fire, and they found a charred cigarette butt a few feet from it.  Luckily, Tuesday was not a crowded night for Verdant, and the modest crowd was able to get out safely.  The damage wasn’t too extensive either, but Tommy suspected they’d have to replace their sound system.

            “Fucking smokers,” Tommy grumbled.  “You know, it’s bad enough that they’re giving all of us cancer with their second hand smoke, but then they have to go and ruin our sound systems.”

            Oliver shook his head, taking a sip of his beer.

            “We should have a strict no smoker policy.  If you smoke, find another club to go burn down.”

            “I’m pretty sure we can’t discriminate based on smoking preference,” Oliver said. “But nice try.”

            Tommy grumbled something under his breath and took a long pull off of the beer bottle.

            “Hey, at least no one was hurt,” Oliver said.  “That’s what matters.”

            “Yeah sure,” Tommy said, sounding unconvinced.  “But that sound system was a work of art. I had to look everywhere to get those Gemini Xtr-500s.  You can’t just get those anywhere, you know.”

            Oliver smirked.  “I know, Tommy.”

            Tommy sensed his friend’s bemusement and straightened a bit as he said, “But, of course, I’m also happy people aren’t dead.”

            “Right.”

            “Because dead people are bad.  So are the subsequent law suits.”

            Oliver could just imagine the headlines if people had been injured at the club. The press would have a field day with that.

            Tommy put his beer down on the counter and stretched his arms out in front of him. He tilted his head side to side as he stretched, gaze falling on the collar of Oliver’s shirt as he settled back down on his seat and reached for his beer. 

            “Oliver, is that lipstick on your collar?”  Tommy said, eyes narrowed as he leaned forward and examined the collar. Oliver immediately shook his head and stammered, “No…I, uh, cut myself shaving this morning.”

            Tommy raised an eyebrow.  “And you bleed pink?”

            Oliver winced, remembering that Felicity had been wearing pink lipstick. It had been red yesterday. He remembered she was talking to him on the elevator up to IT, and he’d been so distracted by the movement of those cherry-red lips that he missed almost the entirety of the conversation.

            “Okay, it’s not blood,” Oliver said.

            “Obviously. Were you with some girl?”

            Oliver bristled at the wording.  No, he wasn’t with some girl.  Felicity wasn’t just _some_ girl. But he understood that Tommy didn’t mean anything by the wording and nodded.   Tommy grinned wide, clapping him on the back.

            “It’s about time you got back on the saddle.  Wait, it’s not Laurel again, is it?  Because I don’t know if I can handle another cycle of that.”

            Oliver shook his head.  “It’s not Laurel.”

            “Okay,” Tommy said slowly.  “Then who was it? It’s a Tuesday night, so I’m guessing it’s not a bar pickup.”

            “No, it’s someone from work,” Oliver said.

            “Someone from work,” Tommy repeated, nodding his head approvingly. “Is it one of your secretaries? Please tell me it’s one of your secretaries.”

            Oliver smirked at his friend’s eagerness and told him, “She’s not my secretary. She’s not even in my department. She works for IT.”

            Tommy stared at him. “IT?  IT…as in Information Technology, IT?”

            “What other IT is there?”

            “Fair enough,” Tommy said.  “Wow. So…that’s happening. Why again is that happening?”

            “What do you mean?” Oliver said.

            “I get wanting something different after Laurel.  But, my God, you didn’t have to do a full 180.”

            Oliver sensed where Tommy was going with this particular line of conversation and he shook his head.

            “Tommy, you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

            “That may be true,” Tommy agreed, splaying his hands out on the bar in front of him. “But…come on.  An IT girl?  So, is this a continuing thing?  One time thing?” He lowered his voice and added, “Pity thing?”

            Oliver let out an affronted guffaw at that last part and said, “Why am I friends with you again?”

            “Because I provide much needed comic relief.”

            “Oh right,” Oliver said drily.  “I forgot.”

            “So, come on, tell me.  Is it a thing?”

            “I don’t know,” Oliver said honestly.  “It just happened tonight.  But…” he trailed off, picking at the label on his beer bottle.  “…she’s different, Tommy.  I’ve never met someone like her.”

            Tommy blinked.  “Well, I’ll be damned. It looks like you’ve actually gone and caught feelings for IT girl.”

            Oliver’s thoughts drifted back to her bedroom when they’d been looking through her scrapbook, and how he’d felt this strange sense of contentment with her pressed against him and chin resting on his arm.  He remembered how as they flipped through the pictures, he couldn’t think of a single place he’d rather be.  Not at Verdant with his friends.  Not at home with his family.  Nowhere but in her bedroom with her, wrapped in her bubblegum pink sheets.

            “Well, I’m happy for you,” Tommy said definitively.  “You’re a good guy, and you deserve something good after the shit show known as you and Laurel.”

            Oliver smirked.  “Tommy, please, don’t hold back.”

            “Hey, I had to hear her crying about you guys to Sara almost every other night,” Tommy said.  “How would you feel if all you wanted to do was get laid by your girlfriend, but instead you’re stuck watching SUV reruns while your girlfriend has the umpteenth heart to heart with her sister about a relationship that was fucked from the start?”

            “I would not feel great,” Oliver relented.

            “No, you would not,” Tommy agreed.  He finished his beer and then stood up, walking around the bar to throw away the bottle in the trashcan beneath the bar.  He gestured for Oliver’s and Oliver nodded, pushing the bottle toward him.

            “So, first club fire,” Tommy said, nodding his head.  “I think we handled it pretty well, yeah? No hysterics.  Minimal swearing.”

            “We did well, Tommy.”

            “Yes, we did.  And with a little bit of luck and copious no-smoking signs, hopefully we can avoid ever being in this situation again.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Felicity took special care getting ready the next morning, anticipation coiling in her stomach tightly as she stood in front of her mirror and applied makeup. She kept telling herself this morning was just like any other morning.  There wasn’t some cataclysmic change in the universe because her and Oliver slept together.

            Still, she felt like things were different.  Sure, he’d seen her in the morning lots of times, but this morning he’d be seeing her for the first time with the distinct knowledge of what she looked like naked.  For Felicity, that was a marked difference. 

            She rifled through her lipstick tubes, trying to decide on a color. Her outfit, a cream shift dress, could accommodate any number of shades – really, _any_ shade for that matter – but she settled on a sunny red. She’d spied a spattering of clouds outside her bedroom window earlier and thought maybe she could bring a little sunshine with her lip color.

            Her and Oliver hadn’t exactly settled on the pick-up-protocol the night before, but she assumed he would just call her when he was outside. Instead, he came to her door, knocking when she was halfway through her bagel.  It was only around 8:00, but for a panicked moment Felicity thought it was later and she’d missed his call.

            “I know I’m a little early,” he said, stepping into her apartment. “But I’ve been wide awake since all the Verdant stuff. I figured I’d just head over here instead of sitting in my house for an extra thirty minutes.”

            “Yeah, that’s fine,” she said, leading him to the kitchen table. He sat down opposite her bagel and cup of coffee, and she noticed the dark circles under his eyes. “Did you not sleep at all, then?”

            He shook his head.  “I was too wound up.”

            “So, what happened?” she asked, pouring him a cup of coffee and setting it in front of him.  He took it gratefully and downed a large gulp.  She sat across from him, biting into her bagel half.

            “We don’t know specifics yet, but they think someone was smoking in the back, and he dropped a still lit cigarette butt.  It caused part of our sound system to catch on fire.”

            Felicity swallowed and then said, “Was anyone hurt?”

            “No, thankfully not,” Oliver said.  “The club was pretty empty.  Believe it or not, Tuesday is not a big night for the club scene.”

            She smiled softly.  “I would have never guessed.”

            “Anyway, I really am sorry I had to leave last night,” he said, reaching forward and covering her hand with his.  “It was just about the last thing I wanted to do.”

            “Fires are a valid reason to leave post-coital-snuggle-sessions,” she told him with a remarkably straight face.  Oliver had less success and laughed lightly, shaking his head as he said, “I appreciate you being so understanding.”

            “Of course.”

            “Speaking of last night,” Oliver said after a moment, clearing his throat a bit. “I wanted to be sure that I was clear about something.”

            Felicity felt her stomach drop.  What did he have to be clear about?  It seemed pretty crystal clear what they had done, so what remained was what it meant, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to have that conversation at eight in the morning.  Not without a second cup of coffee in her, at least. 

            But apparently Oliver wanted to talk about it – or _potentially_ it – right then and there, and she was along for the ride.

            “About what?” she asked gingerly.

            “I know everything happened a little fast,” he began.  “But it wasn’t just a hookup to me….at least I don’t want it to be.”

            Felicity let out a shaky breath and leaned across the table, gently taking a hold of his face and kissing him.  She pulled away slightly and murmured, “I was really afraid you were going to say something else.”

            He grinned and told her, “Believe me, there was never any chance of that.”

            She sat back, feeling just about as giddy as a kid on Christmas morning. Not only had her and Oliver done the deed the night before, but they appeared to be dating.  All this day needed was for Joss Whedon to finally respond to one of her tweets, and it would be absolutely perfect.

            “So, what’s next for the club?” she asked, pushing her plate of a half-eaten bagel toward Oliver.  He happily took the last bit and popped it in his mouth.

            “We’re going to have to check for structural damage,” he said. “They did a pretty cursory examination last night, but we’ll have to have someone actually come in and do it. And then Tommy thinks we need to replace the sound system.”

            “Will it be expensive?”

            “Probably,” Oliver said. “Everything with that club has been expensive.”

            “But you guys are doing well, right?  I mean, you said you were getting a good number of people.”

            “Yeah, we’re doing okay,” Oliver said.  “But this’ll definitely set us back a bit.  It’s not a cost we really factored in, you know?”

            “Won’t your insurance cover it?”

            He nodded. “Part.  But we’re going to be shut down for at least a week, probably more.  We’ll be losing money for all that time.”

            She frowned.  “I’m sorry. This really sucks. I mean, you guys put in all this work and then one stupid smoker goes and ruins it.”

            Oliver smirked. “ You sound like Tommy.  But with a lot less swearing.”

            “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

            Oliver laughed and popped the last bit of bagel into his mouth. He spotted a folded up newspaper on the edge of the table and asked, “Is that today’s?”

            “Yep. Fresh from the presses. Or, you know, fresh from my doorstep.”

            “Do you mind?” he asked, reaching for the paper.  She shook her head and he picked up the paper, leafing through it before pulling out a section.  “I didn’t get to check the business page this morning.”

            She grinned at the image of Oliver sitting with the business section every morning, idly sipping his coffee as he flipped through the stories.

            While he set into reading an article Felicity took the rest of the paper and leafed through it, pulling out the Arts & Entertainment section. She put it down on the table, flattening the seam with her hand.  They read leisurely for the rest of their pre-work morning, casually sipping coffee and remarking on particularly interesting stories, while both of them secretly thought just how strangely familiar the entire scene felt.

 

* * *

 

 

            “Roger Moore.  It has to be Roger Moore. He’s just so _cool_.  When I see him I think, ‘That man could kill me and he’d look phenomenal doing it’.”

            “Sorry, but you’re completely wrong,” Felicity said, her and Oliver coming to a halt at a stop light, the flashing yellow hand warning them stop. “You have to go with Sean Connery. He’s the original, and the original is always the best.”

            “Really?”

            Felicity nodded resolutely. “Yes, really.  So, Sean Connery is the best James Bond, case closed. He originated the character. He originated the cool!”

            “Technically Ian Fleming originated the character,” Oliver pointed out.

            “But Sean Connery brought him to life!”  Felicity argued fervently.  “He took the written character and turned him into an icon.  Do you know how difficult that is to do?”

            Oliver smirked.  “I don’t know, do _you_?”

            Undeterred, Felicity continued with, “Sean Connery and his portrayal of James Bond is the reason all the other Bonds could even exist.  If he had been a dud they wouldn’t have made more movies.”

            “That still doesn’t rule out one of the later ones being better.”

            Felicity sighed, shaking her head.  “This is very disappointing.”

            “It’s not a deal breaker, is it?” Oliver teased.

            She glanced up at him.  “Roger Moore? No.  But if you had said Timothy Dalton – or even worse – Pierce Brosnan? I would have had to reconsider some things.”

            The light changed and they walked forward, their interlocked hands swinging lightly between them.  Felicity spotted Queen Consolidated down the street and she slowed down, looking down at their interlocked hands and then up at Oliver.  He noticed her slow down and gave her a questioning look.

            “Oliver, I need to talk to you about something,” she said.  “Before we get to Queen Consolidated.”

            “Okay.”

            She tugged him over to the side of the street so that they wouldn’t block any of the foot traffic.

            “So, I’m obviously happy this is happening,” she said, gesturing between them. “Really happy, actually.”

            He grinned.  “Me too.”

            “So, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I was hoping we could keep it sort of under the radar at work.  Actually, I was hoping we could keep it _completely_ under the radar.”

            “You don’t want people to know,” Oliver clarified.

            She bit her lip and nodded sheepishly.  “No. It’s just…I really value my work. It means a lot to me, and I don’t want people to think, I don’t know, that I’m just there because of you. I want them to think I’m there because I deserve it.”

            “But you are there because you deserve it,” he told her.  “Besides, I hired you before any of this started.”

            “But they don’t know that,” she pressed.  “I’m still pretty new, and…” she trailed off, noticing the frustrated crease between his eyebrows.  “And you’re upset.”

            “No,” he said immediately, shaking his head.  “I’m not upset.”

            “You look upset.”

            “I’m ont upset,” he said definitively, reaching forward and taking her hands in his.  “I’m just thinking about all the places I won’t get to make out with you at work now.”

            Relief flooded her chest and she said,  “Like where?”

            “Well, my office for starters,” he said.  “I have some very good blinds.”

            “Oh, of course.”

            “Elevators. Stairwells.”

            Felicity smiled a bit and told him, “My stairwell is pretty sparsely used.”

            He raised an eyebrow.  “Is that so?”

            She nodded, finding the idea of her and Oliver going at it in a stairwell surprisingly appealing.

            “Are you saying you wouldn’t be opposed to making out in your stairwell?” Oliver said slowly. “Because, that’s what I’m getting from this conversation.”

            She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing and then told him, “We should get to work.  We don’t want to be late.”

            She started off toward Queen Consolidated and he followed her, asking, “But, seriously?  Is that a yes to stairwell?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the relationship is off and running! I have some fun stuff coming in the future. The big DRAMA is still on the horizon, and a few familiar faces will be popping up. Hope you enjoyed this! Also, I really, really hope you guys enjoyed Tommy in this. I had a blast writing him!


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized I had a bunch of chapters on FF.net that i never posted here. So, here they are! One a day will be posted until all the new chapters are up. Hope you enjoy!!

Felicity sat at her desk, biting the inside of her cheek anxiously as she glanced at her clock. It said the same time as when she checked five seconds ago. She scowled, typing furiously as she heard her mother saying, "A watched pot never boils, Felicity!"

Felicity never had a problem with patience, but then she started dating Oliver Queen. She went from being measured and steady to wanting everything and wanting it now. It was her own fault that she made them keep it a secret. It was harder to get certain urges and desires fulfilled during the work day when she had a strict no-touch policy. She implemented that after their first week of dating when Oliver had taken to excessive seemingly platonic touches. He'd lay his hand on her arm when he spoke to her. He touched her back gently when they stepped into an elevator. To an outside observer it looked harmless, but it made it increasingly hard not to jump him in the middle of Queen Consolidated. So, she'd put a stop to it . No touching. No hooded glances. Definitely no smirks. They were at work and they had to keep it professional.

Most of the time.

She glanced at the clock and practically flew from her seat when she saw it was eleven o'clock. Reminding herself that she shouldn't draw attention to her exit, she stopped at the exit of her cubicle and took a deep breath, trying to calm the racing of her heart. Content that she looked poised for nothing more exciting than a bathroom break, she stepped out of her cubicle and made her way out of the office. She furtively glanced around the hallway for any stragglers before walking over to the stairwell and opening the door, slipping inside.

Oliver was leaning against the wall and he grinned when he saw her, stepping forward and slipping his arms around her waist. He pulled her against him and murmured, "I thought you'd never get here."

"I'm on time," she returned. "You were early."

"I've never been very good at waiting," he admitted with a grin. He spun her around and pressed her back against the wall, mouth latching on hers. She threaded her fingers in his hair, bringing his mouth firmer against hers. She knew it probably was immature for them to be going at it like horny teenagers in a stairwell, but she couldn't care less. These few moments were what got her through the day. They met twice a day. Once before lunch and another time afterwards. It was always the stairwell, as the few other places they'd tried had almost gotten them caught. Oliver's secretary had barged in during a similar moment in his office, and they'd had to make up a quick excuse about her helping him with some tech problems on his computer – despite the fact that he wasn't logged in. Another time they were in the IT department after hours and Mike had come back because he left something at his desk. They were able to pull away just in time, but Felicity swore Mike looked at her differently after that. So, they settled on the stairwell where they were almost entirely free from prying eyes.

That is until that afternoon, when John Diggle decided to take the stairs to get down to the twenty first floor. Felicity heard the door open and froze. Her heart slammed against her chest as she prayed that she was only hearing things. She had no such luck, however, as Oliver glanced over her shoulder and said, "Hello Digg."

"I knew it!" Diggle said, the door closing behind him. "I have to say, it's about damn time. So, how long has this been going on?"

"About a month," Oliver said, looking down at Felicity for affirmation. She nodded and Digg said, "And you guys have been able to keep it a secret all that time?"

"Yeah, right up until now," Felicity said, none too pleased that their secret bubble had been pierced.

Digg smirked. "You're making out in a company stairwell and you're seriously upset about being walked in on?"

"Fair point," Felicity relented. "But Digg, we really do want to keep this under the radar-"

"You want to keep it under the radar," Oliver interjected. "I'd be more than happy to take it over the radar."

Felicity gave him a look. "That's not even a thing. And yes, keeping it a secret is my idea. But, might I remind you that I have very valid reasons."

"Which are…" Diggle asked leadingly.

"I don't want our relationship to define my being here," Felicity said off-handedly. "I want to be that kickass girl in IT who deserves to be here and does her work well. I don't want to be that girl who's dating Oliver Queen."

"You're more than proven yourself here, Felicity," Diggle said. "I really don't think there'd be any backlash with you guys owning up to your stairwell activities."

"Digg has spoken," Oliver said, slipping his arm around her waist and giving her a little squeeze. "I think that means we have to go and tell everyone."

She smirked and shook her head. "No. I'm pretty sure it doesn't mean that."

"Alright, you guys continue this conversation," Digg said, walking past them to go down the stairs. He glanced back at them and said, "Or, you know, get back to your previous activity."

Oliver laughed. "Bye Digg."

Diggle disappeared down the stairs and Oliver turned his attention back to Felicity.

"You know, he's right. People know you deserve to be here and they know that you are an amazing, wonderful member of the IT team."

"Why can't we keep our private life private?" she said softly. "It's none of their business."

"I know it's not," he said. "But, I want to be able to touch you in public. I want to hold your hand on our way into work, and to kiss you after lunch when I head to my office and you head to yours. I don't want to only be dating you outside of 9-5. I want to date you all the time."

She gazed up at him and murmured, "That was quite a speech."

"I really like you Felicity Smoak," he said, slipping both arms around her waist and tugging her closer. "And I'd like to publicly date you."

His mouth found the curve of her neck and she thought to herself that maybe going public wouldn't be that bad. There would definitely be certain perks. And while the hiding thing was sort of exhilarating at first, it had become burdensome with the only place left for them to see each other being the stairwell.

"One week," she said, pulling his attention from her collarbone, which he had been lavishing with both attention and his tongue. He glanced up and said, "One week, what?"

"I've been working on a redesign of Queen Consolidated's interface, and Mike wants to see it in one week. We can go public after that."

"One week," Oliver repeated, nodding with a wide grin. "I think I can do that."

 

* * *

 

"I still can't believe you got caught making out in a stairwell," Roger said, gesturing toward Felicity with his cup of coffee. "What are you guys, sixteen?"

Felicity rolled her eyes, taking a sip of his coffee. Her and Roger were at her usual coffee place, meeting for a quick cup after work. It had been a few days since she'd seen him, and she was filling him in on all the current happenings with her and Oliver.

"In my defense I never actually did that when I was sixteen," Felicity said. "So, I'm making up for lost time."

"I'm trying to imagine what you were like in high school," Roger said, tilting his head to the side as he examined her. "I'm seeing larger glasses. Braces. Maybe a slight halo of frizz around your low ponytail?"

She laughed, shaking her head. "You're right on all but one. I never had braces."

"Seriously? You have fantastic teeth, though."

"Born with them," she returned proudly. "What about you in high school? I'm seeing a failed garage band. You were definitely the lead singer who didn't know he was tone deaf."

"I did do music," Roger admitted. "But it was marching band. I was lead drum major."

Felicity snorted. "That's makes so much sense."

"Why are you laughing? Marching band is the real deal. I'll have you know that I snagged a lot of ladies because of it."

Felicity grinned, imagining Roger as a sixteen year old marching band Casanova.

"So, you think you and Oliver can keep it in your pants for another week?" Roger asked. "Because you already were busted once in that stairwell. You might need to find a new makeout-hideout."

"We'll be fine," she told him. "We're both adults. So, we will handle this like adults."

Roger gave her a look and said, "Just a friendly reminder that you two were going at it in a stairwell."

Felicity rolled her eyes. "I'm well aware we were going at it in a stairwell. In fact, I was there."

"Alright," Roger said, holding his hands in front of him to placate her impending flare of irritation. "Anyway, what are you up to this weekend. There's this awful German new age movie playing at the art theater downtown. I was thinking we'd go and make fun of the hipsters pretending they have the slightest clue what's happening on the screen."

Felicity grinned, taking a quick sip of her coffee. "That actually sounds like a lot of fun. You know how much I love mocking hipsters."

"You did say once that the only thing you love more is coffee."

"But I already have plans," she told him, voice tinged with regret. "There's a charity auction at the Starling City museum of modern art, and pretty much all of Queen Consolidated is going since we're donating a large chunk of money."

"Hm, you and Oliver in formal wear," Roger mused. "There is no way you're making it to one week."

"The faith you have in me is astounding," Felicity deadpanned.

"Think about it," Roger began, leaning forward. "Not only will you be all gussied up, but he will be all GQ in a suit that costs more than my apartment. The museum will be filled with society women just itching to get one step closer to adding a 'hyphen Queen' to their last name."

"Why wouldn't they just take his last name?"

"Because society women would never give up the marker of their blueblood roots," Roger said sensibly.

"You know so much about society women," Felicity teased. "Is there some sex change I'm unaware of?"

"Joke all you want, but you won't be joking when half the room is after Oliver and all you can do is stand to the side and watch because you're too stubborn to admit you're dating someone where if pretty much any other girl in the universe was in your place, she'd be buying space in a newspaper to announce it."

"That's not me," she said with a shrug. "I've never been someone who liked my personal life out in the open."

"That's fine and dandy, but you need to be prepared for what you might see this weekend."

 

* * *

 

Oliver had wanted his driver to take her to the museum with him that weekend, but she insisted that she drive herself. First, them arriving together would have looked suspicious, and beyond that she didn't trust her hands to behave themselves if she was stuck in the backseat of a town car with Oliver. Yesterday, they'd almost gotten caught in the stairwell again.

"Why is everyone suddenly taking the stairs?" Oliver had whispered irritably, pretending to walk upstairs with Felicity to hide what they had been doing.

It was only four more days. They could last for four more days; it was easy. All she had to do was avoid being too close to him in public and everything would be fine.

She walked over to her closet and rifled through the few dresses she'd thought were appropriate for the night. She'd already done her hair and makeup, the latter in neutral hues to match whatever dress she chose. A swipe of lipstick in a complimentary color would come last, and then she'd be set for the night.

After a larger amount of hemming and hawing over which dress to choose, she settled on an emerald green cocktail dress that she had worn for her MIT graduation party. She hadn't worn it since then, but she remembered getting many compliments for it. It was sleeveless and hit just below her knees. Her dad found the dress in a vintage shop just outside of Cambridge and had given it to her as an early graduation gift. It was made of satin, and the fabric skimmed over her curves. The modest sweetheart neckline dipped just low enough to hint at what was below. She clasped a simple diamond pendant around her neck that she'd gotten from her parents after she told them about Queen Consolidated. A swipe of crimson lipstick came next, and then she was rushing out the door, reading over the directions to the museum she'd scrawled on the back of a receipt.

It ended up being a short drive and after leaving her car with the valet, she walked inside, glancing around at the opulent museum foyer as she tucked her clutch under her arm. The museum was beautiful with marble columns and ceilings so high that she had to tip her head all the way back to see them. Someone touched her arm she glanced over, grinning wide when she eyes landed on John Diggle.

"Digg, it's so nice to see you," she said, giving him a quick hug.

"You too, Felicity," he said in his deep voice. "You look beautiful tonight."

"Oh, thank you," she said, blushing slightly. "Um, have you seen Oliver?"

Diggle nodded, frowning slightly as he inclined his head toward the east side of the room. She followed the direction and inhaled sharply when she saw Oliver speaking with a tall brunette. She was wearing a figure-hugging red dress and dark plaits of wavy hair cascaded down her back. Felicity always wondered how women got their hair to look like that. She'd tried, but it always ended in disaster and a ponytail.

"Do you know who that is?" Felicity asked gingerly.

"Isabel Rochev," Diggle said, distaste evident in his voice. "She's been jockeying for a position at Queen Consolidated for years, but Moira's headed it off because the woman is so awful."

"She's pretty," Felicity noted. "Or beautiful. Yeah, probably more beautiful. Girls are pretty, women are…" she trailed off, pressing her lips together as she watched Isabel place her hand on Oliver's arm and lean in as she spoke.

"Don't worry, Oliver's stayed clear of Isabel Rochev's claws for years," Diggle assured her. "I highly doubt now would be the moment he succumbs."

 

* * *

 

"So, I heard that you and your girlfriend broke up," Isabel said. "Her name was Laurel, wasn't she?"

"Yes," Oliver said, nodding stiffly. He never particularly liked Isabel, but she had cornered him the moment he walked into the room. He kept trying to discretely excuse himself, but she always would intervene with one last question.

"I was sorry to hear that. It's always sad when things come to an end. But, of course…" she laid her hand on his arm, leaning in close, "…that leaves room for new things to begin."

Oliver spotted Felicity across the room, watching them with such blatant disapproval that he knew if she saw her own face she'd be mortified. He distanced himself purposely from Isabel and said, "I really do need to make the rounds now. If I don't, I'll hear about if from my mother for weeks."

Isabel smiled sweetly, an expression that looked unnatural on her features. "Well, we don't want that. I'll catch you later."

He walked over to Diggle and Felicity, shaking Diggle's hand and then hugging Felicity lightly as he murmured, "It wasn't what you think."

When he pulled away Felicity nodded and said, "I know. And I wasn't thinking anything. I trust you."

Oliver's eyes travelled down her dress and he slowly said, "There's actually someone that I wanted you to meet."

"Who?" Felicity asked curiously.

"Come on, I'll take you over," he said. Oliver gave Diggle a small nod, Felicity missing the smirk Diggle sent them as they walked away. They wove through the museum foyer, walking out into a deserted hallway. Felicity glanced over her shoulder and said, "Oliver, I'm pretty sure everyone is back that way."

"I know," he said with a grin.

Her eyes widened and she said, "Oliver, no. This is –"

He opened the door to an emergency stairwell and grabbed her arm, tugging her in behind him. The door shut and he braced his hands on the curve of her waist.

"Now I can properly admire you in this dress," he said, hands gliding over the curve of her hips. He tugged her toward him and her arms wound around his neck, eyes drifting shut as he brushed his lips against her neck.

"You do realize that when we're this close you can't actually see my dress," she murmured, laughing as his breath tickled her curve of her jaw.

"Yes, but from here I can feel it," he returned, sliding his hands along the fabric. "I'm really just trying to get the full experience."

"You are so full of it," she said, laughing lightly.

He pressed his mouth to hers and she decided if they were holed up in an emergency stairwell she might as well make the best of it. She kissed him back soundly, hand pressed against the back of his neck as she deepened the kiss. His arms were wrapped tightly around her waist, as if he wanted to hold her as close as possible. She recognized the feeling, wanting to have someone so close that you couldn't tell your heartbeat from their own. She pulled away from the kiss, hugging him closer as she nestled her nose in the crook of his neck. She breathed in deep, thinking to herself that there might not be anything more perfect than his scent.

"I never want to leave this stairwell," she murmured.

"This coming from the person who didn't want to come here in the first place."

She laughed, turning her head to rest her cheek on his shoulder. "I've been known to be unnecessarily stubborn at times."

" You? Never."

She grinned, straightening up and framing his face with her hands. She kissed him lightly and said, "It's time to go back outside."

"Why can't we just stay in here all night?" he asked, hands sliding around her waist.

"Because…" she said, punctuating each word with a kiss, "we…are…adults."

She pulled away completely, wiping her hands on the skirt of her dress.

"And adults do not spend the entirety of a charity event in a stairwell," she reminded him.

"Maybe we could start the trend," he offered.

She laughed, taking a hold of his arm. "Come on, let's go. I promise you afterwards I will reward you for your good behavior."

"Is that so?" he asked with a wide grin.

"Yes, it is," she said as she opened the door. She glanced back at him with a devious grin that faded entirely when she turned her head and found herself face to face with Isabel Rochev. The woman glanced between Oliver and Felicity with a knowing smirk.

"Well, well, what do we have here?"

 

* * *

 

Felicity stood with Diggle, nursing a large glass of wine. Her and Oliver had escaped from Isabel relatively unscathed but she still felt sick every time she thought of the goading look on that awful woman's face. Oliver was making the rounds, shaking all the appropriate hands and making all the appropriate small talk, while she pointedly avoided human interaction.

"So, you and Oliver looked jumpy when you guys got back," Diggle said. "Anything you want to share with me?"

Felicity took a large gulp of wine. "Isabel found us."

Diggle's eyes went wide. "What?"

"We were leaving the stairwell and she was right outside." Felicity shook her head irritably. "I wouldn't be surprised if she followed us and just stood outside waiting to catch us."

"That would be crazy, even for her."

"I'm just afraid this will make her try even harder for him," Felicity said, taking another sip of wine. Diggle looked over at her in confusion.

"Why do you say that?"

"When she saw us…the way she looked at me. It was like she was thinking why in the world he would be with someone like me."

"Do you want to know why he's with someone like you?" Diggle asked in a low voice. "It's because you're kind. You're smart. You don't put up with any of his crap, and you look damn good in your pencil skirts."

Felicity smirked.

"You are everything that Isabel Rochev isn't."

"I bet she'd look good in a pencil skirt," Felicity noted.

"She looks good in a lot of things, but it doesn't change the fact that Oliver only wants you. You're different from the other girls he's been with, but I think that's a good thing. He needs someone like you."

 

* * *

 

Some time later Felicity stood at the bar, waiting to get herself a glass of water. A brunette in a perfectly tailored suit settled beside her and glanced over, sending her a relaxed grin as he asked, "What are you getting?"

"Excuse me?" she said, not having heard his question. She'd been lost in her own thoughts about Isabel Rochev and what Diggle had told her before.

He laughed. "What are you drinking?"

"Oh." She smiled sheepishly. "Just a water."

"You do realize you're standing at a bar, right? It's generally where one orders an alcoholic beverage."

"I just had a glass of wine," she told him.

"And is there some rule you can't have two?"

"When I'm driving, yes, there is," she told him, slightly irritated by the inquisition on her drinking habits. He nodded and said, "Alright, that is a fair argument."

The bartender came over and he ordered himself a scotch and added, "A water for the lady."

"Thank you," she said.

"It's my pleasure." He turned his body toward her and extended his hand. "I'm Tommy Merlyn."

She recognized the name and shook his hand as she said, "I'm Felicity Smoak. You own Verdant with Oliver, right?"

He grinned wide, nodding. "Yeah, I do. I've heard about you."

"Really?" she said, wondering just how much Oliver had shared with his business partner. "Hopefully all good things."

"Very good things," he said punctuating the first word by slapping his palm on the bar. The bartender returned with their drinks and Felicity took her water, taking a small sip.

"What number is this?" a tall blonde said, coming over and standing beside Tommy. Felicity thought to herself that all the women here seemed to be tall and gorgeous. She was wearing a short grey dress, spiky black heels on her feet that looked like they could take out an assailant if she was so inclined.

"You know me, I never count my drinks," Tommy told the blonde. "It's bad luck."

"No, Tommy, that's counting cars in a funeral procession," the blonde returned drily.

"Oh right. You know, I always get the two confused."

"Of course you do."

"Sara," Tommy said grandly, gesturing toward Felicity with his drink. "Let me introduce you to the illustrious Felicity Smoak. She works with Oliver."

"It's nice to meet you," Sara said. "I'm Sara Lance."

"Lance," Felicity murmured, the last name tickling something in her memory. When she caught on she said, "You're Laurel's sister, aren't you?"

Sara nodded. " Yep."

"Is she here tonight?" Felicity asked gingerly, glancing around.

"No, she has a trial next week which means she never leaves her office."

Felicity let out a shaky breath, nodding. She already had to deal with Isabel Rochev tonight, she didn't want to also have to field Oliver's most recent ex.

"Poor Ollie," Sara said, eyes on the dance floor. It had filled up over the past twenty minutes or so, and Felicity followed the direction of Sara's gaze, frowning when she saw Oliver dancing with Isabel.

"She just doesn't give up," Sara said, shaking her head. "You'd think after being rejected for a good three years she'd give up."

"You gotta give her points for dedication," Tommy said, glancing at Felicity. She noticed his gaze and tried to settle her expression into one more neutral.

"What do you think, Felicity?" he asked.

"I think he can do whatever he wants," Felicity returned uncomfortably. "It's not really my place to have an opinion."

"It's not?" he asked leadingly.

And that was when it became clear to her that Tommy Merlyn knew everything.

"Didn't you tell me he was dating someone at work?" Sara asked after a moment, eyes still watching Oliver and Isabel.

"Yeah, he is," Tommy said, glancing casually over at Felicity. She pointedly avoided his gaze, clearing her throat.

"I wonder if she's here," Sara said, looking around. "What was her name again?"

"You know, I don't remember," Tommy said slowly. "But, if I were her, you know what I'd do right now?" He turned his gaze on Felicity. "I'd go over there and do something, because it looks like Isabel Rochev is about one slow dance from sticking her hands down my boyfriend's pants."

"Excuse me," Felicity said suddenly, walking as quickly as she could away from the bar and Tommy. She trusted Oliver. Really, she did. The person she didn't trust was that Isabel Rochev. She knew the woman was acting like this just to get at her. She'd seen Felicity and Oliver leave the stairwell, so she knew something was going on.

Felicity stopped suddenly, hand tightening on her water as she realized that right now keeping her relationship with Oliver a secret was only benefitting one person, and that person was Isabel Rochev. What real harm could come from coming clean about their relationship? If she were being honest with herself, her work was safe. She'd more than proven herself over the past few months. So, what was it? Her inclination to keep things private? Her fear of people's confused reactions when they saw them together? She knew she wasn't his usual type in terms of women, but what did that matter? He chose to be with her, and that was good enough for her. She'd spent so many years worrying about what people thought of her and her choices, that she realized she'd spent a good portion of her life afraid to really live.

Well, not anymore.

She turned on her heel and strode past Tommy and Isabel over to the dance floor. She heard Tommy call out behind her, "That's more like it!"

She wove her way through the couples, making her way toward Oliver and Isabel. She stopped beside them and said, "Mind if I cut in?"

"Actually I do," Isabel said, voice challenging.

Felicity nodded, face hard, and said, "Okay, let me rephrase that. I'm going to cut in and dance with my _boyfriend_." She looked at Oliver. "Boyfriend, do you mind?"

Oliver grinned, gently pushing Isabel away from him when her grip tightened. She backed away grudgingly, frown pulling at her glossed lips.

"I don't mind one bit," Oliver said, sliding his arm around Felicity's waist.

Isabel scowled and then stalked away. She stepped on the front of her dress and stumbled, grabbing onto a man who looked to be around seventy years old to catch her balance. The man took that as an invitation and slid his arm around her waist, shackling her in for a dance.

"Did I hear you incorrectly, or did you call me your boyfriend back there?" he asked.

"You heard correctly," she told him. "That's okay, right? Calling you my boyfriend?"

He leaned in and kissed her softly.

"It's more than okay. So, what made you change your mind about being public?"

She glanced over her shoulder at Tommy and Sara. He was watching the pair and raised his glass in salutation.

"It was Tommy, actually."

"Really?" Oliver said in surprise. "By the way, I sort of told him about us."

"Yeah, I caught that," she said, squeezing his hand. "It's okay, though. It was time to stop hiding."

Oliver leaned in for another kiss when Thea noisily interrupted, shrieking as she grasped Felicity's arm and said, "So, I was pretty sure I saw Oliver kiss you, and he was definitely going in for a second one there-"

"Yes, I was," Oliver said unhappily. Felicity grinned, giving his back a little rub.

"Are you two together?"

Thea glanced between Felicity and Oliver anxiously, head whipping back and forth. Oliver look to Felicity with a smirk and gave a little shrug before Felicity said, "Yeah, Thea, your brother and I are dating."

"You guys," Thea began, voice suddenly seriously. "This is literally the best thing that could have ever happened. I didn't know why I didn't think of you two before. You're _perfect_ for each other. Obviously."

"Your brother's a pretty great guy," Felicity said, grinning when Oliver leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek.

Thea just about died right there, clasping her hands to her chest as she murmured, "If I could frame a moment, I'd frame this one right here."

Something suddenly occurred to Thea and her grip on Felicity's arm tightened as she breathed out, "Oh my god, if you guys get married, Felicity – " she gave the arm another squeeze, " – we'll be sisters!"

Felicity laughed uncomfortably, glancing at Oliver. They'd only just gone public with the relationship, marriage talk was way, way, _way_ down the line.

"Yeah, I guess so," Felicity murmured.

"Anyway, you guys keep dancing. I just…" she trailed off, launching forward and hugging Felicity tightly. "I'm so glad I sent you to that club opening."

Felicity grinned, thinking to herself just how much had happened since that night when she grudgingly went to the club.

"I am too," she said truthfully.

Thea turned and disappeared into the crowd. Oliver slid both of his arms around Felicity, holding her close.

"You know, I usually hate these charity events," he told her. "But tonight ended up not being half bad."

"Agreed," she said, resting her cheek on his shoulder. "But, you know, there is one way it could get better."

"How's that?"

"We could go back to the stairwell."

Their dancing stilled and he murmured, "Really?"

She nodded, biting the inside of her bottom lip as she gazed up at him. He nodded, all business like, and said, "Well, then lead the way."

She laughed, reaching down and taking his hand as she dragged him off the dance floor, mind firing with all the different ways they could celebrate the next phase of their relationship.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Felicity and Oliver moved lazily around her townhome, getting ready for the workday. As she applied some blush to her cheeks she glanced at him in the mirror and said, "So, I was wondering if you wanted to go to this film festival with me this weekend. I do have to warn you the films are all in German – but, I'm a firm believer that overacting and hilariously produced scores are both a universal language."

He laughed. "I'd love to but I'm actually travelling this weekend."

"Is it a work thing?" she asked. He hadn't mentioned anything before, but she knew sometimes things popped up last minute.

"No, I always get out of town this time of year." She was about to push for more information when he said, "Saturday is the anniversary of my father's death. I find it difficult to be here, so I started going to our lake house a few hours from here. It's quiet there. It just gives me space to-"

"Grieve," she finished, feeling like the worst girlfriend in existence for not remembering the anniversary of his father's death. That's something she should have remembered – or at least reminded herself to remember somehow. "I'm sorry I didn't know. I should have known."

"It's okay," he said. "Life moves on, right?"

She thought of how that was one thing you shouldn't have to walk away from at Oliver's age.

"Anyway, I'll only be gone from Friday until late Sunday. I won't really be taking calls, but if you need me – "

"Don't worry about me," she interrupted, walking over and slipping her arms around his waist. "I can go three days without you."

He smiled and dropped a kiss to the tip of her nose. "But can I go three days without you?"

She smirked, tilting her head to the side. "I guess we're about to find out."

 

* * *

 

They didn't mention his weekend trip again, and she paid it little thought after she kissed him good bye and sent him and his Ferrari on their way. Her supervisor had given her a hefty assignment on Friday, and it consumed her thoughts as she camped out at her desk for much of Saturday, poring over code and figures until her eyes glazed over. She hadn't thought of Oliver – or Robert – Queen until her phone pinged with a new email. She checked it casually, interest piquing when she read the email's subject line.

ROBERT QUEEN

Now, logically she knew there were many explanations for that title. Maybe it was an in memorium piece someone had forwarded, or some enterprising journalist had learned of her and Oliver's involvement and was hoping to get an exclusive on Oliver's life without the Queen patriarch all these years after the shipwreck. But, logic could not quell the nagging feeling that opening that email was tantamount to opening a can of worms.

She did it anyway.

The email had no greeting and no identifying information for whoever had sent it. All it contained was what looked like a company name – Blackbriar Enterprises – and a string of letters and numerals that looked like some sort of account number.

She immediately searched for the company online, finding nothing but a minor name-drop in an article from a few years back. A deeper search unearthed its incorporation papers. She quickly read through the shareholders listed in the document, not recognizing any. After a few more failed searches she sat back in her chair, wondering what just dropped into her lap, and what exactly she was supposed to do about it.

 

* * *

 

"Yeah, that's definitely a bank account number," Roger said, looking at the mystery email. "Or, you know, a really complicated phone number."

Felicity had called Roger the minute she got home, wanting someone to talk through the email with. He came immediately, armed with a six pack of pop and bag of chips.

"Why would someone send this to me?" she asked, biting crunchily into a Dorito.

Roger shrugged. "Did you track down the guy's IP address?"

Felicity nodded. "It's a dead end."

Whoever she was dealing with knew how to cover his tracks. Her search gave her no identifying information, looping back to the same generic Chinese takeout website that she was moderately sure was a red herring. She'd used every trick she knew, and couldn't glean any useful information besides the price for orange chicken.

Her phone buzzed and she picked it up, stomach dropping when she saw an untitled message from the same sender.

"What is it?" Roger asked, noticing how her shoulders had tensed. He had been midsip and put down his Dr. Pepper as he watched her open the email and quickly scan the message. It was brief, only consisting of three lines.

Starling City Rec Center

Locker # 47

4536

"This is exactly like a scene out of James Bond," Roger noted, shaking his head as he read the message, neck craned to avoid the screen glare.

She stood up suddenly, looking around for her purse. She spotted it over by the kitchen table and strode over, stuffing her phone into the outside pocket.

"You're not actually going, are you?" Roger said, outrage tinting his voice.

"Of course I am."

"You have some possible lunatic sending you cryptic emails. This is practically the beginning of an SVU episode."

"I'll be fine."

"If you end up dead, Oliver is going to blame me. And, we both know he can take me in a fight."

She snorted. "Roger, I am not going to end up dead. I am going to a public place, remember? I'll just go and get whatever is in the locker and come back."

"This seems like a bad idea. I think you should just let it be," Roger pressed.

"Look, there's a reason I'm being sent these. I have to see it through – at least find out what's in the locker."

"You're insane," he said.

She waved her hand in the air dismissively and said, "It'll take me twenty minutes tops to get there and back. I'll be safely locked in my apartment before you can say 'crazy murdered', okay?"

"Okay," Roger relented, standing up. "But, if you think you're going alone, you're even more insane than I already know you to be. I'm coming with."

Felicity shrugged, although a telling grin pulled at her mouth. She'd hoped he would come with her from the start.

"That's fine. Just don't change the radio so much in the car. It's annoying."

As they walked out of the townhouse he returned, "It's not my fault you listen to country."

 

* * *

 

The row of lockers were deserted when Roger and Felicity cautiously approached. Roger edged closer to Felicity and said, "Yeah, nice public place, huh?"

"It _is_ public," she shot back. "It's just not very…populated."

Roger glanced around and asked, "Do you think someone is watching? You know, to see if we complete the dead-drop?"

Felicity rolled her eyes. "This is not a dead-drop."

"This is the definition of a dead-drop."

Felicity scanned the locker numbers, searching for 47. She found the 40s and then easily located her locker. She glanced at Roger anxiously and he nodded encouragingly and said, "What's the worse that can happen?"

"You're right," she echoed. "What's the worst that can happen. There's a body part inside. Or a bomb."

"You've been hanging around me too much," Roger told her. "Just open the locker so we can go home."

"Okay," she said, taking a deep breath before she reached forward and worked the combination into the lock. The locker opened with a click.

"I can't believe that worked," Felicity murmured.

"Come on, let's see what's inside."

Felicity opened the locker and pulled out a thick envelope. She opened the top lip and slid out the stack of papers, leafing through them and eyes widening as her eyes roved over pages of confidential bank statements. The account number on the documents matched the one in her original mystery email.

"We should get out of here," Roger said, gaze lingering on the documents.

"Yeah," Felicity agreed, slipping the papers back in the envelope. She clutched it to her chest. "Let's go."

* * *

 

Felicity and Roger sat in front of her coffee table, papers spread out on its scratched surface. The documents detailed dozens of transactions with Blackbriar Enterprises, the majority of them comprising of hundreds of thousands of dollars being wired directly to an office in Guadalajara. The only problem was that there was no record of Blackbriar Enterprises having any presence in Mexico, nor did Queen Enterprises.

"Okay, so I get that this is some shady financial stuff," Felicity said. "But what does it have to do with Robert Queen?"

"I don't know. Maybe he was the one doing it? You know, siphoning money from the company under the guise of business?"

She shook her head. 'These transactions happened after he died. He couldn't have been involved."

Roger leaned back against the couch, folding his hands behind her head.

"Well, then you've got me. I have no idea."

They were both quiet for a moment before Roger said, "Maybe it's a whistleblower."

"You mean, like they're ratting on someone else?"

Roger nodded, sitting forward. "Yeah, you know, they found out some higher up or something was taking money and…"

"They come to me, the almighty tech girl?"

She wasn't convinced, but Roger was undeterred.

"You don't know, maybe they were fired for what they know, or they were afraid of retaliation."

"So they resort to me?" she pressed, still finding the entire proposition highly unlikely. "What am I supposed to do with this information? Go march to Moira Queen's office and say, 'Hey, I picked up these documents sent to me by a complete stranger, and they say someone's diverting boatloads of your company's money! Ball's in your court now!' I'll sound insane."

Roger seemed to be in deep thought for a moment and then his eyes widened. "That's it!"

"What? What's it?"

"You have a relationship with Moira Queen."

"No, I don't," Felicity argued. "I'm dating her son. That's about it."

"That's _exactly_ it," Roger pressed. "You're dating her son. She trusts you. You're probably just about the only person in the building who could go straight to her office and get a meeting like _that_!"

He snapped his fingers at the end for emphasis and she frowned, not liking where he was going with this.

"Okay…"

"This guy couldn't report, but you can."

"We don't even know if these documents are accurate," she said, shaking her head. "They could be fake."

"Why send you on this wild goose chase if they're fake?"

"I don't know," she admitted, biting the inside of her cheek. There really would be no reason for sending her the false documents, unless this person truly was a complete raging lunatic, but still that seemed far fetched. "Do you really think this person – whoever they are – wanted me to go to Moira?"

"I mean, it makes sense," he offered.

"But, then why the Robert Queen stuff?" she asked. That was the one piece that still didn't make sense, and Felicity had the nagging feeling that it was an important missing piece.

Roger thought about it for a moment and then said, "It was probably an attention ploy. A way to make sure you opened the email."

Felicity had to admit that made sense. Robert Queen's name had certainly caught her attention.

"So, what are you going to do?" he asked.

Felicity stared at the mess of papers, headache pounding behind her eyes.

"I have no idea. I mean, how would I explain where I got the information from?"

"You're tech-y. I'm sure you could figure something out."

She gave him a look. "Tech-y won't help me. IT doesn't have access to financial documents like this."

"Well, you _could_ just tell the truth."

"Seriously?"

"I think she'd believe you," he said with a shrug. "It's not like you'd have a reason to lie."

Felicity considered that – going in Moira's office and telling her exactly what happened. It was incomprehensible. But the thought of making up some grand story to go out on a limb with seemed even more unlikely – not to mention unruly. If she was going to do this, she had to do it the right way.

But, she still hadn't decided she was going to do anything.

"Do you think I should do it?" she asked him. "I mean, you were pretty opposed to me even going to the locker before."

"Yeah, well, it was just some rando sending you emails before. This is different. There's a pretty clear reason why they reached out to you, Felicity."

"What if we're over extrapolating? I mean, this all could just be some coincident. There could be no rhyme or reason for why I got those emails."

"Do you really believe that?"

No, she didn't. She believed that she was meant to get those emails, and that she was meant to do something, but she was afraid of what would come next. What if it had been Moira herself who silenced whoever was sending those emails? Or, what if Moira had nothing to do with what happened but didn't believe her? Moira could talk to Oliver next, telling him that she'd somehow gotten mixed up with the company's books and who knows what would happen next?

"I think you should at least consider it," Roger said. "I think you'll regret it otherwise."

* * *

 

Ultimately, Felicity decided to tell Moira. She spent nearly half the night tanging uncomfortably with her sheets, imagining what would happen if she said something and then what would happen if she didn't. She came up with pretty grave worse case scenarios for both, but ultimately her conscious won out. She'd couldn't just sit on this information. She'd tell Moira Queen and then let her decide if she believed her.

She changed her mind at least three times before she took the elevator up to the top floor. She'd never gone to the executive suite before, and she was surprised by how different it looked from the other floors. The elevator opened into a grand lobby with a cozy set-up in the center with plush leather sofas and a coffee table with assorted novelty books spread haphazardly on the surface. At the back of the lobby was the receptionist's desk, a striking woman with red hair wound into a tight bun at the top of her head fielding calls on her headset. Moira's office door sat behind the desk.

"One moment, please," the receptionist told Felicity when she approached, attention snapping back to the phone call. After a few seconds she gave Felicity a bright smile and asked, "Can I help you?"

"I'm here to see Mrs. Queen."

The receptionist nodded crisply, typing something into the computer. "Mhm, and what time is your appointment?"

"Oh, I don't have one. I was hoping-"

"Mrs. Queen is fully booked today," the woman interrupted pleasantly. "Would you like to schedule a meeting now? She's available beginning…" she typed something else into the keyboard, "…next Tuesday."

"Can you tell her it's Felicity Smoak? And it's important? Very important."

The woman hesitated for just a moment before nodding and telling Felicity, "I'll see if she has a moment."

Felicity waited anxiously out in the lobby, feverishly hoping she wouldn't have to put this off until Tuesday. The woman returned and said, "You can go in."

Felicity nodded, relief flooding her chest, and stepped past the desk and into Moira's office. Moira Queen sat in front of her chic glass desk, hands folded placidly on top of the desk. She was in one of her usual shift dresses, a delicate strand of pearls around her neck.

"Felicity, dear, how are you?"

"Good, thanks," Felicity said, nodding a bit spastically.

"I don't see you in here often. Is everything alright?"

Felicity didn't know how to smoothly transition into what she'd learned, so instead of trying she just blurted it all out. She was surprised to hear just how much "it" was. She told Moira the basic facts and then threw in her and Roger's theories. When she'd finished she felt like she needed water and a cool washcloth.

"While I appreciate your concern, I can assure you that no one is taking money from Queen Consolidated," Moira told her gently.

"Well, then, what is Blackbriar Enterprises?"

"I haven't the slightest idea," she returned. "These documents you speak of are surely fabricated."

"They look authentic," Felicity said, pulling the envelope from her bag. She showed Moira one of the statements. "I checked out the signatories and everything. They check out."

"Hackers are an incredibly clever bunch, Felicity. You, of all people, should know that."

Felicity flushed. "Right. Okay. Well, I'm sorry for bringing this to you. I just thought-"

"No, I appreciate you coming here," Moira said, rising from her seat. "You care about this company. I like to see that in employees."

Felicity nodded, moving to put the envelope back in her bag.

"Why don't I keep that," Moira said, holding out her hand. "I'll take them to the shredder."

Felicity hesitated for a moment before handing them over. Moira carefully laid them on the desk and said, "And, Felicity, if you could not repeat what you told me with anyone else, I would greatly appreciate it. You know how rumors begin."

"Sure. My, uh, lips are sealed."

They exchanged a few more pleasantries before Felicity left, wondering why Moira's steadfast dismissal of what she'd brought made her feel more unsettled than relieved.

The next night Oliver came home, looking tired but content. He settled on the couch with her, pulling her legs up on his lap. As he absentmindedly ran his hand up and down her leg he asked, "How was your weekend? Do anything exciting"

She thought of everything that had happened and murmured, "Nope. Just...you know...the usual."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Review! Review! Review!
> 
> New chapter will be up TOMORROW.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

Somehow, in the wake of the mysterious emails, life had returned to normal. Oliver was back from his trip, spending an inordinate time in her apartment and bed. They went to work together in the morning and then went home together, eating whatever leftovers were in her refrigerator. She told him they could stay at his place some nights, thinking that his digs were without a doubt more posh than hers, but he always said he liked her place better. It was more of a home, he said, than his house ever had been. Everything was perfect.

And then she got another email.

"Do you find it strange that this mystery person is sending you pictures of dead people? Because I do," Roger said, sitting with her in the same coffee shoppe she'd met Oliver in months earlier. It was sort of ironic considering that her and Roger were now sitting poring over a photo of Oliver's presumed dead father.

"It gets stranger," Felicity said. "I pulled up the time stamp on the photo, and it's from two months ago."

Roger looked at her in confusion. "How can Robert Queen be in a photo from two months ago? Maybe someone messed with the time stamp."

"That's what I thought," Felicity said. She began to type rapidly and the photo zoomed in on a paper that someone was holding behind Robert Queen. "But look at the date on the paper. It's clearly from this year."

"Huh," Roger said, leaned forward and staring at the photo. "So, you're telling me that we're looking at a photo from two months ago with Robert Queen in it?"

"I don't know," Felicity said. "I mean…it looks like that. But, he's dead."

"Presumed dead," Roger reminded her softly.

"Holy shit," Felicity breathed out. "Maybe this is just someone who really looks like him? I mean, isn't there something about how everyone has a doppleganger out there? That's a thing. So, this is just his doppleganger. Because Robert Queen is dead. He has to be."

"Sure, it could just be a lookalike," Roger answered in support, but even she could hear the doubt in his voice.

Felicity clicked out of the picture, closing her computer. She took off her glasses and wiped at her eyes, feeling like she hadn't slept in weeks.

"You know what this means, right?" Felicity said. Roger read it was a rhetorical question and did not answer. "Oliver's dad is alive."

Roger nodded.

"I mean, what other explanation could there be?" she continued. "This picture is clearly in relation to what this person was sending me before. So, we have these odd transfers of money – although Moira claims they're completely legitimate – and now a picture of a very much alive Robert Queen."

"So, the money's going to him right?" Roger said uncertainly. "Just making sure we're on the same wavelength."

"What else could it be?"

Both were silent. There was nothing else it could be, at least nothing else that reason could lead to. Felicity couldn't believe it. Robert Queen was alive, and Moira had likely known about it since the ship went down. She felt anger rise in her chest. How could she go all these years letting her children believe their father was dead? She saw how it affected Oliver, and she could only imagine it was the same for Thea.

"Are you going to tell Oliver?" Roger asked.

That was the elephant in the room. She had this knowledge, and it seemed like something that she should tell him. But what if she was wrong? What if she gave him this false hope and sent him on a wild goose chase for nothing? He was damaged enough from his father's passing as it was.

"I'm going to go to Moira first," Felicity said.

Roger began to shake his head immediately. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"What if it's nothing?"

"What if it's _not_?" he pressed. "She obviously covered up those transactions. She lied straight to your face, Felicity. What makes you think she won't do it again?"

"Because now I have a time stamped photo with her supposedly dead husband in it," Felicity said. "I have a bit more leverage this time."

"What if she just plays the dumb card?" Roger said. "What will you do then? Just accept it and move on? Let Oliver keep mourning a father who's alive?"

She hated him for pushing her then, but she knew he was right. What would happen if Moira just brushed it off like the other emails? What could she really do? But one thing scared her more than Moira Queen, and that was hurting her son. She couldn't put him through all of this, make him live through his father's death again, for nothing.

"It wouldn't be for nothing," Roger said after hearing her out. "That picture pretty much proves he's alive. What more proof do you need?"

"They could have doctored the newspaper. Hell, I could have done that."

"But why? What's the point? We thought bringing him up before was to get your attention, and fine, that made sense. But now? What else can this mean besides its plain meaning – that Robert Queen is _alive_?"

"I'll go to Moira first," Felicity began. When Roger made a face she held up her hand and said, "Hold on, I said I'll go to her _first_. If she doesn't tell Oliver, then I will myself."

"Will you really?" Roger asked.

"Yes," Felicity said. And she would. She would because fear was only one side of the coin she was tossing, and the other side was something beautiful. The other side was Oliver getting his father back.

* * *

 

That night she waited anxiously for Oliver to come home. Even though it was a Saturday he had meetings all day, and he didn't get home until just before dinner. She'd whipped up an easy pasta for the two of them and they ate together when they got home, him talking and her nodding between bites of pasta.

"You're quiet," he noted.

"I'm just tired," she lied. "I, uh, haven't been feeling well today."

"What's wrong?" he asked, voice laced with concern. She immediately felt bad for making him worry.

"It's nothing terrible," she remedied. "Just, you know, a mild headache. Nothing some Chopped and Tylenol can't fix."

He grinned. "I didn't know Chopped had such miraculous qualities."

"It has many unspoken secrets," she returned.

Later they sat on the couch, sharing a blanket as they watched their favorite show. Her cheek was resting on his shoulder and he was drawing lazy circles on her side. It was a perfect moment, and she thought to herself that she could stay this way forever. She could stay with him forever.

That night they made love and when they lay together afterwards, her body tucked against his, he murmured the three words she'd been holding inside for weeks.

"I love you, Felicity."

The words were perfect but they only made the burden of her secret weigh heavier in her stomach. She turned toward him, tracing the strong line of his jaw with her fingertips. She couldn't speak, other less-appropriate words edging their way onto her tongue. So, instead, she leaned forward and met his mouth with her own.

She poured all of her love, anguish, and confusion into the kiss, fisting her hand in his hair and trying to find the blissful mindlessness that would always grip her whenever he touched her. She couldn't find it now, though. The secret weighed on her heavier and heavier, and when he pulled away, blue eyes shining with so much affection that she wanted to cry, she almost told him.

"Oliver."

"Yes?" he returned softly, kissing the tip of her nose.

"I…I love you, too."

He grinned, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her against him. She buried her face into his neck, thinking that she couldn't be more of a coward if she tried.

 

* * *

 

She went to Moira's office first thing Monday morning, just missing Oliver when he was on his way to an early meeting. She went to the receptionist and had the same battle over her not having an appointment.

"Just tell her it's Felicity Smoak," she said. "We did this before, remember?"

The receptionist did not take well to that last part and said, "Yes, I remember. But I also remember advising you to make appointments. Mrs. Queen is a very busy woman."

"Of course," Felicity said, mentally pulling her haunches down. There was no reason to get in a verbal dispute with this woman. This wasn't important. "Can you please just tell Mrs. Queen that I am here? And I promise next time I will make an appointment. I will make one many, many days in advance."

The woman stood grudgingly, casting Felicity a dirty look before walking back into Moira's office. Sure enough, a few moments later she walked back out and told her, "You can go right in."

Felicity nodded, walking around the desk and back into Moira's office. Moira smiled pleasantly up at Felicity from her desk.

"Felicity, dear, how are you?"

"I'm good, Moira. Thank you. How are you?"

"Wonderful, dear. Now, I assume you aren't here just for pleasant chitchat. What can I help you with?"

"I have some questions I hope you can answer for me," Felicity began, reaching into her bag. She pulled out the photo of Robert Queen that she'd printed out. "Or really, it's one question."

She placed the photo in front of Moira, carefully watching her expression. Moira was typically the perfect image of calm, but a storm of emotions flashed over Moira's face when she saw the photo. It was sadness, confusion, and then fear.

"Where did you get this?" she asked in a low voice.

"The same person who was emailing me before about the transactions sent it to me," Felicity said. "Is that Robert Queen?"

Moira picked up the photo and began to tear it up. Felicity stepped forward instinctually, reaching toward the photo. "What are you doing?"

"No one can know about this," she hissed. "And you cannot tell anyone. Do you understand?"

"So, it is him?"

"Felicity," Moira said loudly. She seemed to visibly check herself after the outbreak and her voice was low again when she continued with, "This is very important. It's…you can't even understand how important this is. You cannot tell anyone about this."

"Is Robert Queen alive?" Felicity asked, mind whirring. So, it was true. Or at least it seemed to be true. Moira avoided the question, saying, "Just forget what you saw. It's for the best. Just forget it."

"I can't forget it," Felicity said. "Your son, someone I care a great deal about, is mourning a father who I believe is very much alive. How is that right?"

"You don't understand," Moira snapped. "You don't understand anything!"

"Then tell me! Help me understand!" When Moira didn't say anything Felicity stepped forward and said, "If Robert Queen is alive and I'm getting these emails, it's probably not good. Now, maybe I can help you."

"You can't help," Moira said, shaking her head. She looked so defeated sitting there in her tweed suit. "No one can help. What we did. It was the only way. And now…"

Felicity stepped even closer. "What did you do?"

"I can't."

"Moira, tell me. What did you do?"

Moira sighed, propping her elbows on the desk and leaning forward, resting her forehead on her upturned hands. She turned her head to the side and murmured, "Robert got in some money troubles. He entered into a foolish deal and it backfired. He owed money everywhere and had nowhere to get it. To pay off the debts, he got involved with one of the most ruthless organized crime sects in Starling City – The Bratva. He would do work for them in return for money. It started out simple enough, but then he got more and more involved. I begged him to leave, but he said that he was in too deep. He couldn't leave without putting all of us - me, Thea, Oliver - in danger."

"So, he's on the run from this Bratva group?" Felicity asked. Moira looked up at her and shook her head.

"I wish he was. But no, it's not them. I convinced Robert to go to the police. I thought it would help. Instead they had him go in deeper with the idea if he infiltrated enough of the organization they could destroy it. Someone tipped the organization off that they had an informant. The first person they suspected was Robert."

"If it's not the Bratva group then who is it?" Felicity asked, not understanding exactly where the story was going. The natural flow of the story suggested The Bratva group was responsible for Robert's faked death, but Moira kept shaking her head and refuting that fact.

"The Bratva didn't want Robert's blood on their hands so they went outside the group to kill him." Moira swallowed hard. "They hired a group called The League of Assassins."

"That can't be real," Felicity blurted out. She felt bad immediately for saying it, but, come on, The League of Assassins? That was ridiculous.

"It is very real, Felicity. And Robert would have been one of their victims had it not been for a very dear friend among their ranks. He heard that Robert was targeted and called me. I was much like you when I first heard. I couldn't believe it was true. But he assured me it was, and if I didn't do something my husband would end up dead."

"So, you faked his death to save him," Felicity said, jumping to the end of the story. Moira nodded.

"Yes. It was the only way. They had to believe he was already dead, otherwise they would have hunted him down wherever he ran."

"You have to tell Oliver," Felicity said. "And Thea. They deserve to know that their father is alive."

"No, absolutely not," Moira said. "It's too dangerous. Someone already knows he's alive. The more people that know-"

"These aren't people," Felicity interrupted vehemently. "These are his _children_. How can you let them go on living thinking that their father is dead?"

"It's better for them this way," Moira said. "They have closure. They can move on."

"No, they can't," Felicity argued. "Oliver leaves town every year at his father's death because it's too painful for him to be here. He hasn't moved on. He hasn't healed. He misses his father every day. Why wouldn't you take away that pain if you could?"

"How would this be any better?" Moira shot back. "They can't see him. They can't even talk to him, except through brief coded messages where you can barely put in anything of importance. How is that better?"

"Because he's alive," Felicity said simply. "That makes it better."

Moira was silent for a moment. "If I tell them they will never forgive me."

"They will," Felicity said, not entirely sure if it was true but certain that it was the right thing to say then. "It will take time, but they will."

"I don't know if I can do this."

Felicity took a breath. "Then I will."

Moira glanced up in surprise. "You what?"

"I can't watch him go on mourning a father who is alive. It's not fair to him."

Moira studied Felicity silently and then said, "You love him, don't you?"

Without hesitation Felicity said, "Yes, I do."

"Then you know how you would do anything to protect him. Even if other people didn't understand."

The insinuation was clear.

"He can either learn this from you, Moira, or from me. It's your choice. But he will learn his father is alive. It's the fair thing to do."

 

* * *

 

Felicity fidgeted as she waited downstairs in the office for Oliver. He was a bit late, and she wondered the reason. Was it just business, or was he dealing with the revelation that his father was alive?

When he came down and joined her she could tell from his leisurely attitude that it had been the former. He kissed her on the cheek, rubbing her back. Just as they were headed out his phone rang. He pulled it out of the pocket of his suit jacket and swiped into the call.

"Hi Mom."

Felicity froze, immediately trying not to look too interested as she glanced over at him. They talked for only a few seconds before he hung up.

"Everything okay?" Felicity asked.

He nodded. "My mom wants to talk to me. I don't think it should be too long. You can wait for me or just head home."

Having a feeling what was in store for him at that meeting, she thought it better to wait for him at home. That would give him some time to process.

"I'll wait for you at home," she said.

"Okay, I'll see you later then."

She gave him a quick kiss and then left, her nerves taut like a tight rope. When she got home she tried to busy herself with tidying up the apartment and prepping for dinner. She diced an onion with military precision and actually measured everything out, which she never did. Still, she couldn't chase the unsettled feeling in her chest.

He came home just as she finished up the soup she was cooking. She turned off the burner, walking over to him. Immediately, she knew that Moira had told him. He was uncharacteristically quiet and he had this sort of shell-shocked look on his face.

"Oliver?"

He sat down on the couch and told her everything. Moira told him nearly everything she'd told Felicity that morning, leaving out some of the mental impressions. Felicity sat still next to him, trying to be supportive while not asking too many questions. He probably didn't know anything more than Moira. When he was finished she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him. He didn't put his arms around her, arms hanging limply at his sides.

"I'm glad she told you," Felicity said. "I mean, at least you know your father is a live. After all those years thinking he was gone, it has to be a good feeling, right?"

Oliver stared at her. "What do you mean you're glad she told me?"

All the color drained from Felicity's face. The entire time Oliver had been relaying the story, it never occurred to her that Moira hadn't told Oliver her involvement in it all.

"Oliver, I…"

"You knew," he said, pulling away from her. "You knew my father was alive."

"No, I…I mean, yes. Technically I knew your father was alive, but that was only since this morning. The other stuff-"

"What other stuff?" he said loudly, standing up. "Just how much have you been keeping from me?"

"Nothing! I mean, nothing that I thought mattered. I started getting these emails. And they were sort of connected to your dad at first, and then sort of not. Anyway, I went to your mom and she told me it was fine. I didn't think I needed to go to you."

"When?" he asked.

"Oliver-"

"When was it?"

She sighed, not wanting to tell him but knowing she had no choice. "About a week."

If someone could visibly fume, Oliver would have in that moment. "You've known about this for a week and you didn't tell me?"

"Not about your dad being alive. I only knew that this morning."

"Wait, so this afternoon before my mom called me…you knew?"

Felicity grudgingly nodded. "But, I was going to tell you if she didn't! I told her that she had to tell me, and if she didn't I would, because you deserve to know, and-"

"You should have told me right away!" he bellowed. "I mean, dammit, you're my girlfriend. You're supposed to be on my side."

"I am on your side," she said, standing up and reaching for him. He backed away, pulling his arm away from her grasp. She could see him distancing himself from her, pulling away to a place she couldn't reach him. "Oliver, please."

"I'm going to stay at my place tonight," he said. "I just… I need time to sort through all of this."

"Sort through it here," she urged him. "I'll leave you alone. I'll…I'll go in the other room or something. Just don't leave. Please."

Oliver shook his head, picking up his bag from the couch. "I can't be here. I…I'll see you tomorrow."

He left without another word, Felicity standing in the middle of her rec room wondering how things had gotten so messed up.

 


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter from FF.net. Just a quick note - this story is on hiatus. I am unsure when I will update it next.

Chapter Fourteen

Ten days. It had been ten days since Oliver had found out that his father was alive, ten days since he stormed out of her apartment, and ten days since he'd spoken a single word to her.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. He said hello to her if they crossed paths in the office. Oliver was a lot of things, and polite ranked pretty high. There also was that time she called him, hoping to smooth things over, and they spoke for exactly one minute and twenty two seconds – she checked on her phone – until he told her that he needed time and hung up.

So, time. She was giving him time. That's what supportive and potentially ex-girlfriends do when their generally supportive and potentially ex-boyfriend receives life altering news that somewhat involves them. She kept herself busy with work and a largely unnecessary redecorating trip in her apartment. She was going for a sort of cowboy-bohemian-chic, with Roger vehemently opposed, telling her it was her anxiety speaking and the minute everything blew over she'd freak out that her apartment now looked like a cowboy high on vapors vomited all over it. But, she trudged on, finding comfort in the fringed pillows and ceramic horse figurines.

She felt like she'd never had so much time before, and she thought that she could do this. She'd wait until he was ready. And he had to be ready, sometime. He'd realize that she never meant to hurt him, and even if what she did was arguably questionable – she'd accepted that while picking out decorative mason jars – he'd forgive her. He had to forgive her.

So, time. She was giving him time. And then she got the phone call.

 

* * *

 

"So, I think Sara's starting to drop wedding hints," Tommy said, reaching up and pulling his collar tighter around his neck. It was a particularly cold afternoon, and even with his coffee he was chilled to the bone.

Oliver chuckled. "Really?"

"She should know I'm not the marrying type. I make it a point to say – at least once a month – that I am not the marrying type."

"Maybe she thinks she can change you," Oliver teased. "Love conquers all, right? Even your crippling fear of commitment."

"Look, I'm fine with commitment," Tommy said. "I love Sara. I don't want anyone else but her, but why does there need to be a ring involved to prove that? Shouldn't my word be enough?"

"That is very deep, Tommy," Oliver deadpanned.

"Look, laugh all you want now, but I know you. When Felicity starts dropping hints you'll be freaking out just like me."

The grin disappeared from Oliver's face and he cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah. You're probably right."

"Of course I'm right," Tommy said. "I remember how you used to be when Laurel would even bring up the word wedding. You turned a very interesting shade of puce."

Oliver's phone rang and he pulled it from his pocket, frowning when he saw Felicity's name flashing on the screen. He almost answered, but when he imagined himself sitting through another round of her explanations and excuses he shook his head slightly and put the phone back in his pocket.

Tommy had noticed the phone call dodge and casually asked, "Trouble in paradise?"

"Huh?"

"You just dodged a call from your girlfriend. That usually bodes trouble."

Oliver shook his head. "This is my time with you right now. I'll call Felicity back later."

Tommy's lips twitched. "That's very touching, but, seriously. What's going on? I just bitched about Sarah. It's technically your turn."

"It's nothing," Oliver repeated. He couldn't tell Tommy the truth. His mother had made it very clear that no one else could know about Robert Queen being alive. He couldn't even speak to his father now, despite the fact that he'd thought for years that he was dead. It was too dangerous. All he could do was send the same cryptic messages his mother had been sending all those years.

"Whatever you say," Tommy said, yielding to Oliver's insistent ovations that nothing was wrong. "But, when you decide to stop spouting that line of bol shit, I'm all ears."

Oliver felt his phone buzz once in his pocket. A voice mail. Tommy noticed Oliver's momentary distraction and said, "She left a voice mail, didn't she?"

"I'll check it later."

"Take it from someone who has faced the wrath of a very angry girlfriend following phone call dodging, it's a wiser path to just listen and call back. A few words can save you a big headache."

"Thank you for the sage advice. But it's fine."

"Whatever you say man," Tommy said. A bruising wind gushed toward them and Tommy reached up and pulled his collar tighter. "It's fucking cold out here. Mid-afternoon drink? I think Riley's has half price beers today."

"Lead the way."

 

* * *

 

Felicity sat in the hospital waiting room, anxiously glancing around as she waited for someone to give her news. Every time someone in scrubs approached she straightened up, steeling herself for whatever came next, but they never were there for her. No one was there for her. Not the endless parade of scrubs, not Oliver who still hadn't returned her call.

She wanted someone to talk to. Someone to tell her that her fears were irrational and everything was going to be okay, but there was no one left for that. Her parents were out of the country, and Oliver wasn't answering his phone, and Roger –

She wiped at her eyes, telling herself that it was unreasonable to cry when she had no news. Everything was still up in the air, and it was just as likely it would fall on the good side as the bad. It could happen. It had to happen.

Because it was Roger, and he was the person who always wore a seatbelt and used turning signals for every single turn, even the ones that didn't really need them, and it was unfair – it was _wrong_ – that Roger, the person who did everything right, was hit head on by a drunk driver at nine o'clock in the morning. It was unfair that he was in surgery, fighting for his life, when that drunk driver, whose blood alcohol level was three times the legal limit, got out of the crash with only a broken arm.

It wasn't fair.

 

* * *

 

Two beers and several hours of Tommy lamenting about marriage and how wedding cake never tastes as good as it looks later, Oliver got home. He kicked off his shoes at the door and walked over to the couch, sitting down and turning on the television. His phone dug into his hip and he pulled it out, Felicity's missed call and message on the screen. He took a deep breath and then clicked on the message, putting the phone on speaker. The moment he heard her voice he knew something was wrong.

"Oliver. It's me. Felicity. I know that you said you need time, and I understand that. I get it. I hurt you, and I'm starting to think there's nothing I can do to fix that – to change that – but…Roger's in the hospital. There was an accident. It…It's not good. They took him into surgery, and the doctor told me stuff, but…it's bad, Oliver. It's really bad, and I'm sort of freaking out. Actually, not sort of. It's, um, full fledged, and usually Roger would be the one to calm me down, but…can you come to the hospital? I know things are weird between us now and I'm last the person you want to be around, but I could really use a friend right now. And before everything, we were friends. Good friends. So, if you could come down here, I –"

The message cut off, Felicity talking right up to the end of the time allotted for messages on his phones. He sat for a moment, her message sinking in, and then he was up off the couch, grabbing his car keys off the coffee table. He slipped his shoes on and left the apartment.

 

* * *

 

Felicity flipped through the three month old Good Housekeeping in the waiting room, not absorbing anything on the pages but finding comfort in the turn of one page to another. She'd gone through about three of the magazines there. Roger's surgery was going long, and she tried not too read too much into that. She was flipping through an article on desk organization when she saw Oliver. When he walked toward her, warmth blooming in her chest, she realized that she never actually expected him to show.

She stood without really meaning to, and then she was in his arms, her head tucked under his chin and his arms wrapped around her waist. His body was warm, just like she remembered, and when he whispered that everything was going to be okay she almost believed him.

They sat down and she had to stop herself from reaching over and taking his hand. It was like his touch grounded her, but she told herself to tread lightly. She was lucky enough that he was there.

"What happened?"

"It was a drunk driver," she said. "The guy turned into the on-coming turn lane. He had this big truck. The police told me it pretty much totaled Roger's car."

"They called you?"

She nodded. "They didn't have a next of kin listed for him, so they looked in his phone to see who he called last. It was me."

She felt the tears again and turned to the side, furtively wiping at her eyes. She felt Oliver's hand on her knee and she turned back, pausing for a moment before covering his hand with hers.

"He's going to be okay," he said.

"You don't know that."

"He'll pull through, Felicity. He will."

"He's been in surgery for a while," Felicity said, feeling the anxious rise in her chest again. "That's not good. I mean, if it was a simple fix they'd be done by now. All this time, it probably means something went wrong."

"How much do you actually know about surgeries?" Oliver asked her.

"Um, what I've seen on ER?"

"Exactly," he said gently. "So, you don't know that more time means bad things. It could mean a lot of things."

"I need him to be okay," she said. "I just…he's my person. He's always been there for me. Everything I've gone through these past few years, he's been there."

"And he'll continue being there," he told her. "You have to believe that."

"I can't lose him, Oliver. I can't."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, their hands intertwined on her knee, and she thought to herself that somehow Roger had managed to bring her and Oliver together again. She would have rather they stayed separated if this was the price to pay.

"Thank you for coming," she said, glancing over at Oliver. "I didn't know if you would."

"Of course I would," he said, squeezing her hand. "I know how much Roger means to you."

She went to say something when a set of scrubs walked into the waiting area and asked, "Is anyone here for Roger Silverman?"

"Yes," Felicity said loudly, scrambling up to her feet. She walked over to the doctor, Oliver on her heels. "We're here for Roger Silverman."

The doctor nodded, all business, and said, "Yes, please come with me."

"Is he okay?" she asked, following the doctor away from the crowded waiting area. "I know they had him in surgery for some internal injuries. I think I heard something about a lung collapse. Did they fix it – fix everything?"

The doctor brought Felicity and Oliver into a room, and as she glanced back at the busy hallway, she could sense something was off.

"We were able to fix most of the internal damage," the doctor began, closing the door. "There was a collapsed lung, as well as two broken ribs. However, those injuries were not the most serious."

"Really? They sound pretty serious," Felicity murmured. She could hear her heart beat in her ears.

"Roger sustained a head trauma from the force of the impact," the doctor said. "We did some scans, and while it looks like there is no immediate damage, there is substantial swelling. To help with that, we've put him in a temporary induced coma to reduce the swelling."

"A coma?" she said softly.

"Like I said. it is only temporary – until the swelling goes down –"

"How long will that take?" Oliver asked.

"It's hard to say," he said. "It may be a few days until we feel safe enough to pull him out of it."

"And, will that…when that happens…will he be okay?"

"He may need some rehab. After head trauma such as this issues with motor skills are common. He may need some speech therapy."

Felicity thought of how quick witted Roger was before, and she felt a sob rise in her throat. Sensing that she was beyond speaking, Oliver laid his hand on her shoulder and asked, "Can we see him?"

"Yes. He's in recovery right now. I can take you to him, if you'd like."

"Felicity?" Oliver asked softly. She only nodded in response, not trusting her voice.

"Alright, you can come with me then," the doctor said.

He led them out of the room and as Felicity and Oliver followed she grabbed his hand, not knowing if she could go forward without holding onto something. His grasp was firm, and from it she drew strength. It was a bit of a trek to the recovery room, and the doctor did his best to make small talk. Oliver answered most of the questions, Felicity too nervous to talk. She had this sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that she couldn't shake.

They finally reached the recovery room and they walked in. Felicity saw him before the doctor even had a chance to tell her where he was. She pulled her hand from Oliver's and rushed over to Roger's bedside. His body was badly bruised, and there was a large gash above his left eye. There were no tubes of wires, save for an IV in his left arm feeding him nutrients.

"You can talk to him," the doctor said when he caught up with her. "He can hear you."

She nodded, wiping at her nose. Tears rolled down her cheeks, her efforts to remain in control long forgotten. She felt Oliver behind her and she reached back for his hand, pulling him beside her. She didn't say anything.

"Why don't you talk to him?" Oliver said.

"I don't know what to say."

"That's a first."

It was such a Roger thing to say, and she found herself chuckling despite everything that had happened that day. She glanced up at Oliver with a watery smile, and said, "Yeah, that is a first."

"Just tell him you're here. Tell him that you – that both of us – are rooting for him. We're rooting for him to pull through this."

She nodded, glancing back down at Roger.

"Did you hear that?" she said. "You have to pull through this. Because Oliver is starting to use your lines, and he doesn't deliver them nearly as good as you."

"She's right," Oliver said beside her.

She leaned down and pressed a light kiss to Roger's cheek. He smelled like hospital and soap. She straightened up, sniffling a bit, and Oliver said, "Are you ready to go?"

"Yes. I mean – not home. The waiting room. I want to be here if he wakes up."

"The doctor said it could take a few days before they pull him out."

"No, he said it _could_ take a few days," she countered. "If he wakes up, I want to be here."

Oliver nodded. "Alright. At least let me take you to the cafeteria. I bet you haven't eaten all day."

He wasn't too far off. All she had was the bagel from that morning. She'd gotten the call before lunch, and in the hustle of the hospital she hadn't even felt the slightest bit hungry.

They went to the cafeteria and he bought her a cheeseburger and fries that she barely touched. Later they went back to the waiting room, Felicity telling him repeatedly that he could go home.

"The worst is over now," she told him. "I'm fine, really."

"I'm not leaving you," he said firmly. "You shouldn't have to go through this alone."

So, she let him stay. And later, when visiting hours were over she let him drive her home, only half listening as he said something about him and Tommy driving back to get her car. She was tired. Actually, exhausted was more apt. The day had drained her and all she could think about was going to bed.

He followed her into her apartment, making sure she got in okay. She told him again that she was fine. She'd done enough calling him into the hospital. But as she padded into her bedroom, rubbing her arms to sooth the chill that had suddenly hit her, she realized that she wasn't fine. She was far from it. Without really thinking, she ran out of her bedroom. He'd already left her apartment, but she caught him midway down the stairs.

"What's wrong?" he asked, eyes alert.

She suddenly felt silly. She was a grown woman. She should be able to sleep alone at night. But the thought of lying there in her apartment, completely alone, made her skin crawl.

"Do you think you could stay? Just tonight." He didn't answer and she paused. "I know it's a lot to ask. It's probably too much." Another pause. "No, it is too much. I'm sorry. I just – all this stuff has really thrown me. You know what, I'm fine. Yeah. I'm fine. I –"

She was starting to turn back toward her apartment when he said, "I'll stay."

She turned back immediately. "Really?"

He nodded, walking up the steps. He gently took a hold of her elbow and steered her back into her apartment, shutting the door behind them.

She pulled a few blankets from the closet and put them on the couch for him. He seemed amiable enough about it all, but she still felt guilty for making him do this. The guilt wasn't enough to stop her, though. Because, truth be told, she needed him then. And it felt nice to not have him push her away. It almost felt like how it used to be.

She settled in her bed, trying to find the sleep that she had yearned for hours earlier, but even as her eyes closed sleep evaded her. It was as if her entire body was thrumming with nervous energy. After what felt like an eternity she pulled herself out of bed and walked out into the living room. She tried to see if Oliver was asleep, but she couldn't tell in the dark. When she edged closer, she saw his eyes open watching her.

"You can't sleep either?" she asked softly.

"No."

"I hope it's not because of the couch," she said, dropping down to the floor and sitting against the side of the couch. "It's not the most comfy."

"I've had worse."

She thought of everything that had happened, and the divide she could still between them. "Oliver-"

"Not tonight, Felicity," he interrupted, knowing where she was going.

"I have to," she said. "Because you're here and you're being wonderful, and I feel like the world's biggest idiot. I should have told you. I thought I was keeping you safe, but I wasn't. Even if it all ended up not being true, those secrets weren't mine to keep. I'm sorry, Oliver. You have no idea how sorry I am."

"Okay."

She glanced up at him, trying to figure out just what that okay meant. She had her answer when he scooted back on the couch and held out his hand for her. It seemed illicit somehow to feel joy after everything that happened that day, but it was undeniable as she laid back against him, his arm winding around her waist and hand laying gently on her belly.

"I'm really glad you're here, Oliver."

He pressed a kiss to the curve of her neck. "Me too."


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

Felicity awoke to the smell of coffee. She lifted her head blearily from the couch cushion, dragging a hand over her tired eyes as she lifted herself up. She propped her arm on the top of the couch and glanced into the kitchen. Oliver was next the stove, doing something with bread and eggs. She watched him break two eggs into a shallow bowl and then beat it with a fork. It occurred to her then – as he dredged the bread in the egg mixture – that he was making French toast.

It was her favorite, and he knew that because she'd told him during one of the nights he'd spent at her apartment. She'd been the one to make it the next morning, though, telling him how her mom used to always make it for her before tests.

_"Nothing soothes nerves like a good breakfast," her mom would say decisively._

Oliver's French toast skill was not nearly as refined as a Smoak woman's. She saw there was no cinnamon out and from her seat she'd spied a glob of egg white clinging to the side of the toast that wasn't properly beat. But still, it was the thought that counted and it counted a lot.

She got up from the couch and walked into the kitchen, reaching out and touching his arm as she walked past him to the coffee machine.

"Good morning," she said.

"Morning."

"You didn't have to do all of this, you know," she said, pulling a cherry red mug with black mustaches on it from the cabinet. She poured herself a full cup of coffee. "Cereal would have been fine."

"I was up," he said, shrugging.

She gave him a strange look and he turned away from her, facing the stove and fiddling with the nobs. She took a sip of her coffee, wincing as the hot liquid burned her throat. At least she could feel something. Her entire body went numb when he turned away. Because she knew what it meant. Last night had been for her benefit, it was exigent circumstances and he did what he had to, but now it was morning and they were back to where they were before.

"You haven't forgiven me," she murmured. She knew it wasn't the time or the place, but Roger was lying in a hospital bed and he might never be the person she knew again, and she was done handling things carefully.

"Felicity, let's not do this now," he said. The words were meant for her but he said them to the stove as he flipped the French toast.

"How many times do I have to tell you that I'm sorry? That I never meant to hurt you?"

"Felicity-"

"Not to mention that I convinced your mother to tell you. She wasn't going to, but I told her that if she didn't I would. I wasn't trying to hide anything from you!"

Oliver's jaw ticked. "You were looking into it for weeks, Felicity. Getting those secret messages and talking with my mother. You could have told me any time during those weeks, but you didn't."

"I didn't know if there was something to tell, Oliver. How did I know this wasn't just some crazy psycho who hated your family or something? I made a judgment call. Maybe it was wrong but I made my decision. I know how much losing your father hurt you. I didn't want to give you false hope."

"It wasn't your decision to make."

The acrid smell of burning egg hit her nose and she crossed her arms tightly over her chest. "The toast is burning."

He quickly flipped it over, the side that had been pressed against the pan nearly black.

"Why are you even here?" she asked softly, hands wrapped tightly around her coffee mug. "If you're still upset with me, why did you stay last night? Why are you here…making me _French toast_ …why?"

"Because I love you," he said sharply. "Even if I'm mad at you. Even if I can't stand to look at you, I still love you. And right now you need someone. So, I'm here."

Hearing him say he loved her should have made her feel better, but it didn't. If anything it made her feel worse. She didn't know how to answer that, how to fix what had broken between them.

"Do you like butter with your French toast?" she finally asked.

He let out a soft breath and said, "Sometimes, yeah."

"I'll get it from the refrigerator."

She turned away from him toward the refrigerator, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she pulled open the door. Part of her felt like she should ask him to leave after their exchange, but he was right in what he said before. She did need someone and he was the person she wanted by her side, even with the complications between them.

So, she swallowed down her desperation for them to be okay again and put the butter on the table, sitting down and nursing her coffee slowly. A few minutes later Oliver joined her, a plate of overcooked French toast in front of each of them.

* * *

 

Despite Roger being in the hospital the rest of the world went on, and Queen Consolidated required her technical expertise. She ran into Diggle in the elevator and when he took in her drawn face and messy pony tail he asked, "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything…it's…"

Before she knew it she was crying and Diggle was awkwardly patting her arm, telling her that whatever it was it would be okay.

The doors opened on their floor and they stepped out, his hand curled around her shoulder. She wiped at her eyes under her glasses.

"I'm sorry," she said. "It's just, um, my friend Roger. Have I mentioned him to you before?"

Diggle nodded. "You guys used to work together at Starling Prep."

"Yeah, that's him. Well, um, he was in a car accident yesterday. A bad one. And he's in a coma now."

"Felicity, I'm so sorry," Diggle said, reaching forward and pulling her into a hug. She stayed there for a moment, taking solace in the sturdiness of him. Diggle was a solidly built man, and his embrace felt solid and safe.

She pulled away after a moment, sniffling a bit.

"It's a medically induced coma," she said. "So, that's supposed to be better. I didn't really understand all the medical stuff, but it's better than an actual coma. Or, I guess they're both _actual_ comas. It's just one's medically induced and the other happens...by itself, I think? I'm sure there's a term for it, I just don't know it. I should have asked. That would have been a good thing to ask."

"Felicity," Diggle said gently. "He's going to be fine."

"Everyone keeps telling me that," Felicity said. "But it's just wishful thinking. He might not be okay. You should have seen him. All these tubes and bruises."

"It's not wishful thinking," Diggle told her. "It's having faith in someone you care about. Have faith in your friend."

"What use is faith?" she said off-handedly.

Diggle smiled a bit. "You'd be surprised. You let me know if you need anything today, okay? And I mean anything. Coffee. A Big Belly Burger. You name it."

"I might take you up on that last one."

"You got it. Lunchtime. Big Belly Burger with extra pickles and a side of Cajun fries."

Felicity laughed – the sound foreign to her ears – and said, "You know my order."

"We only go there every other day."

"I like being a regular somewhere."

He grinned. "I'll see you this afternoon, Felicity."

"See you then."

* * *

 

The work day felt like forever – even with her lunch with Digg – but then she felt like she ended up at the hospital too soon. All day she couldn't wait to see Roger, but then the entire drive there she kept wishing traffic would build up, that the light in front of her would turn red.

She was afraid of what she'd see. She was afraid he'd be worse. Afraid he'd be the same. Afraid he'd be better, but not Roger. The doctor's words from before kept playing in her mind, how when Roger woke up he might have issues with his speech and motor skills. Part of her wondered if waking up that way was what Roger would even want.

She took her time in the hospital, using the restroom and taking an unnecessary trip to the gift shop and buying a "get well" balloon and stuffed teddy bear that Roger would certainly make fun of her for buying. But it took time. There was a large selection of small balloons and then there had been an entire stuffed-bear-or-stuffed-horse decision. It took at least fifteen minutes.

Eventually, there was nothing left for her to procrastinate with. She stood outside of Room 234 – the one the nurse directed her to when she asked – and counted down from ten. When she reached one she took a deep breath and stepped inside.

The bruising looked worse. It turned a sickly purple color, a sign of healing that did little to assuage her nerves. The swelling had gone down, although his eyes were still puffy. The machines hummed around him, one tracking his pulse and fluid levels, the other providing him with a steady stream of oxygen.

She made a tentative step forward and then moved back sharply as one of the machines beeped loudly. It continued to beep loudly, the pulse dropping steadily on the machine's monitor. It dropped to zero and Felicity brought a hand to her mouth, her chest tightening as she glanced back helplessly to the empty hallway. She rushed outside, looking around wildly for help. A nurse exited a room a few doors down and Felicity called out for her.

The nurse quickly entered the room, rushing to Roger's bedside and checking on him.

"He's okay," the nurse assured Felicity, adjusting a bulky plastic clamp on his right index finger. The pulse jumped back up to where it was before.

"What happened?" Felicity asked anxiously.

"The monitor slipped," the nurse said. "It probably got knocked when one of his nurses was checking his vitals."

"So, he's-he's really okay?"

The nurse nodded pleasantly, pointing at the monitor. "See? His pulse is right back where it should be."

"Thank you. "

"You're welcome. I think the doctor will be here for rounds in a few minutes. He should be able to give you more of an update on your friend's condition."

Felicity nodded, watching the nurse walk out before sitting at the chair just to the right of Roger's bed. She leaned forward, resting her hands lightly on his.

"You scared me there, Roger. Again. You need to stop doing that."

The doctor walked in and smiled pleasantly toward Felicity.

"It's nice to see you again," he said.

"You too," she said. "How is he doing? Is there any improvement?"

"Yes, actually," the doctor said. He glanced down at the chart in his hands. "The brain swelling is going down nicely. Just like we hoped it would. His other vitals have been strong-"

"What about the oxygen?" Felicity asked.

"Just a precaution," the doctor assured her. "We hope to lift the coma within the next twenty four hours."

"The next twenty four hours," Felicity repeated, feeling relief flood her chest. The nightmare was almost over. Deep within her mind a voice whispered, _This nightmare_.

"That's…amazing. Fantastic. Thank you, Doctor."

"You're very welcome," he said. "I'm happy to see him turning around. He seems like a good guy."

"He is," Felicity said. "He's the greatest."

The Doctor nodded, making a few more general remarks before continuing on his rounds. Felicity leaned forward, lifting Roger's hand in hers and kissing it.

"No funny business now, you hear?" she said softly. "You're waking up in the next twenty four hours. That's a date. And you know how I get about cancelled plans."

She sat with him for a while after that, listening to his steady breathing and holding his hand in hers. She didn't know how long she'd been sitting there when Oliver walked into the room. She glanced up at him, tears filling her eyes.

"What is it?" he asked, laying a hand on her shoulder.

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head and covering his hand with hers. "It's…it's good. They're waking him up within the next twenty for hours. They, um, said the brain swelling is going down like they wanted. He's waking up."

He squeezed her shoulder. "That's great news."

She nodded, letting go of her hand and wedging her hands between her legs. She wanted to touch him again. To wrap herself in him and never move again. But there was a distance between them – even with him there – and she respected that.

"You didn't have to check on me," she told him. "I appreciate it, but-"

"I actually wasn't here to see you," Oliver interrupted, moving his hand from her shoulder. "I wanted to visit Roger."

She stared up at him.

"I figured he probably would appreciate a voice besides yours. Not that your voice is bad, of course."

He was attempting at levity and she smiled softly, but not just at that. She smiled because he was there. Because he went to visit her friend in the hospital, even when it posed absolutely no benefit for himself. Because she loved him. God, she loved him.

"Oliver?"

He glanced toward her. "Yeah?"

"I need you to know something. Even if we don't get past what happened. If you can never fully forgive me. You have meant more to me than any other man I've known. I love you, Oliver. I love you, and no matter what happens next, I will continue loving you."

She held his gaze for a moment before turning back to Roger, taking his hand again. She waited for him to respond. To say something. There was only silence, and she could feel her heart beat in her ears as she felt him shift beside her. She squeezed Roger's hand, trying to focus on anything other than the deafening silence in the room. She hadn't expected a real response. That wasn't why she said it. It wasn't to get some big reaction or show of emotion from him. She'd only said it because it was true, and true things should be said.

His hand returned to her shoulder.

 


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen            

True to the doctor’s word, Roger was pulled out of his coma and Felicity was by his beside when he came to, a groan leaving his mouth as his eyes drifted open. Felicity gave him a watery smile and said, “Is that any way to greet a friend?”

            “Give a guy a break,” he murmured, voice hoarse.  “It’s not every day you wake up in a hospital bed.” He lipped his chapped lips. “Speaking of that, what the hell happened?  I remember that ass hole in the truck hitting me.  But after that, zip.”

            Felicity couldn’t answer, as there was a sob in her throat and thick tears dripped down her cheek.  Roger took this as a bad sign and nervously said, “Oh god, don’t tell me I lost my legs or something. Please tell me I still have legs. I think I feel them, but-“

            She nodded, laughing thickly.  “You still have legs.  The accident was pretty bad, though.  There was trauma to your head, so they put you in an induced coma.”

            “Wait, seriously?” he said.  “That’s sort of cool.”

            “No, it’s not,” she said. 

            “Not everyone gets to say they were in an induced coma.”

            “I think that’s generally a good thing,” Felicity said, beginning to get a hold of herself.  “But, they said you might have speech or motor issues when you woke up.  They didn’t know the extent of your brain injury, if there was any. But, look at you. You’re…” she trailed off when she watched him try to reach for the glass of water on his nightstand. He ineffectually swiped at the glass, knocking it over.

            She quickly reached down and picked it up, holding it out to him. She saw then that he couldn’t curl his fingers enough to grasp the cup.

            “I’ll get you a straw,” she said, beginning to get up.

            She found a nurse outside of the room and asked for the straw. The nurse told her she’d get it for her, and Felicity went back into the room.  Roger’s expression had grown serious, and he asked her, “Are my toes moving.  I can’t tell because of the blankets.  Can you…”

            She nodded blankly, pulling back the blanket and staring at his unmoving feet.

            “Are they moving?  I think I’m moving them.”

            She covered his feet again and told him, “I don’t know.  We should probably get your doctor.”

            “Felicity-“

            “I’m going to get the doctor.  You just wait here.”

            She rushed out of the room and then stepped back against the wall, her hands shaking. She’d had such hope when he spoke. He was Roger.  Joking and ribbing, he was exactly how she remembered him. Except he wasn’t. Because the old Roger could hold a cup, and the old Roger could wiggle his toes. 

            “Felicity?” the doctor asked, walking toward her.  “Is everything okay?”

            She nodded, wiping at her eyes.  “Yes, um, Roger woke up.”

            “Wonderful, I’ll go check on him-“

            She reached out toward him and said in a low voice, “He can’t move his toes. Is that…does that mean he’s lost the use of his feet?”

            “I won’t know anything until I look at him myself,” he said gently. “But, most motor skill difficulties can be addressed with physical therapy.  The patient may not regain full function, but they can get pretty close.”

            She nodded, reaching up and adjusting her glasses nervously.

            “I’m going to go check on your friend now.  You can stay out here if you want, or-“

            “No, I’ll go with you,” she said. “I can go with you.”

            She walked in behind him, playing with the skirt of her dress. Roger’s face broke her heart. It was the cautious optimism of someone who knew they were likely about to face bad news.  She stood silently at the side while the doctor examined him.

            “Your speech sounds good,” he said.  “Do you find yourself having difficulty saying anything that you did not previously?  Any difficulty forming sounds or breathing?”

            “No,” Roger said.  “It’s more the moving part. It feels like I’m moving, but then nothing happens.”

            “We suspected there may be some motor skill difficulties,” the doctor explained calmly.  “A brain injury to the extent you suffered can often cause muscle weakening, which affects movement. But, we can help that with physical therapy.  I can’t promise you that you will get to a full range of motion – it’s different for every patient – but physical therapy can be extremely helpful.”

            Roger nodded weakly.  “Okay.”

            “I know this seems like a lot to take in, but trust me when I say you are very lucky.  I have seen people with brain injuries like yours that can’t speak.  You have a long journey ahead of you, but I have no doubt that you will be able to pull through.”  He glanced at Felicity.  “Especially with the support you have.  I swear, you had someone visiting you every day.  That’s important during the recovery process.”

            “I’ll keep being here,” Felicity said. 

            “I can give you the names of a few physical therapists that I typically refer patients to,” the doctor said. 

            Roger didn’t answer, so Felicity said, “That would be great. Thank you.  Do you know when Roger will be discharged? I imagine it wouldn’t be today, but –“

            “Oh no, we want to keep him here a bit longer for observation,” the doctor said. “I would imagine by Thursday or Friday, Saturday at the latest, he will be discharged.”

            They dealt with a few more housekeeping matters before the doctor left, and it was only Felicity and Roger again.  He was quiet, and she said, “I know it seems bad –“

            “It is bad.”

            “The doctor said you can get physical therapy,” she pointed out in an attempt to be positive.  Even she wasn’t convinced.

            “He also said I may never fully recover.”

            “You never liked excessive physical movement, anyway,” she said in attempt at levity.

            “Yeah, but I liked walking,” he said dryly.  “And moving my legs.  And…and picking up a _fucking_ glass of water.”

            “You just woke up,” she reminded him gently.  “Give it some time.”

            He reached toward the glass on the nightstand again, and his hand twitched in front of it.  She could see the arm quivering, fatigued from the simple act of holding itself up for two or three seconds.

            “Don’t push yourself,” she said, stepping forward and nudging his arm back down. “Let me see where that nurse is with the straw.”

            She went out and spotted the nurse coming down the hallway with the straw. She took it from her and went back in, sticking it in the cup and holding it to Roger’s mouth. He reluctantly took a sip.

            “Is this what my life will be like now?” he asked glumly. “Drinking from straws while someone else holds the glass.”

            “I don’t know,” she said honestly, setting the glass down when he was done. “But, you’ll get through it. You have to.  And I’ll be here.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Felicity went home that afternoon and slept for three hours straight. When she woke up she wearily ran a brush through her hair and then went back to the hospital to spend dinner with Roger.  He looked less pleased to see her than she would have liked, and told her repeatedly to go home.

            “I know you probably spent most of the last, however many days I was here, in this room.  Go home. I have people to keep me company.”

            “Like who?”

            “The nurses.  They all love me. They’re constantly checking in on me.”

            “You do realize that’s their job.”

            “You’ve been here enough,” he said with finality.  “Go home.”

            With about as much finality, she returned, “No.  Besides, Nurse Joan brought me a special pudding cup. It would be rude to not eat it.”

            She knew part of his resistance to her being there was that she was helping him eat.  Normally a nurse would do it, but since she was there she told the nurse that she would take care of it. Roger didn’t openly protest, but she could tell it made him uncomfortable.  If Roger was anything, he was independent, and having to have so much done for him by other people was a large adjustment.

            “Don’t you have a boyfriend to go spend time with?”  Roger asked stubbornly.

            “That is a complicated question.”

            Roger stared at her.  “What does that mean?”

            She glanced back at the door and said, “He found out about the stuff with his dad. And, well, he didn’t take my keeping it from him well.”

            “Are you broken up?”

            She shrugged.  “I don’t know. We’re on a break, maybe? He’s been here for me with all the stuff that happened with you, so it’s sort of difficult to tell.”

            “Well, shit.  I’m sorry for my unwittingly insensitive comment.”

            “You get a free pass, all things considered.”

            “Do you want me to talk to him?  I might have some sway considering I’m bed-ridden.”

            She smirked.  “I appreciate the offer, but no.  I told him I’d give him space, so I’m just going to do that.  I’m going to wait it out.  Okay, you need to drink more water.  Since you’re off the IV you need to be drinking more.”

            Roger frowned.  “Fine. Bring the cup over here.”

 

* * *

 

 

            The next week was much of the same.  Felicity spent as much time at the hospital as she could. Sometimes she sneaked there during lunch, but without fail she was there at each dinner to help him eat. It was on her way out of Queen Consolidated that she ran into Oliver for the first time since the hospital room the week before.  They were out in front of Queen Consolidated, the setting sun casting long shadows.

            “Felicity,” he stammered, seeming surprised to see her despite the fact they work at the same building.

            In the wake of everything with Roger, Felicity found she was no longer able to be rattled by much else, and she gave him an easy smile.  “Hi Oliver.”

            “How are you?”

            “Okay,” she said.  “You?”

            “I’m fine.  How’s Roger? Did he wake up like the doctor said?”

            Felicity nodded.  “Yeah, he’s been awake since Monday, actually.”

            Oliver nodded, fingers pulling at the bottom of his suit jacket. He looked so nervous, and she couldn’t tell whether to be touched or unnerved by it.  They never used to be this way, but she supposed things were different now.  She’d told him everything, the truth about his father and the truth about her feelings. What happened next was entirely up to him, and she could see the discomfort it caused him.

“That’s amazing. How is he?”

“His speech is okay. Which is good. But his motor skills have some problems. It’s, um…” she trailed off, feeling the familiar despondency grip her.  “He’s going to be okay.  That’s all that matters.”

“That’s right.”

“Well, I should go. He’s expecting me for dinner.”

“Okay. Tell him I say hello.”

“I will. It was nice seeing you, Oliver.”

There was a breath of a pause, and then he returned, “You too.”

Felicity walked toward her car, wondering why she felt actual relief at going to visit her friend in the hospital.  Maybe it was because things were actually advancing there, unlike her stalemate with Oliver. With the minimal physical therapy Roger was getting at the hospital he was able to move his legs a bit and pick up a glass.  Anything smaller, though, was still a challenge, so she still helped him with the fork and spoon. When his discharge approached, the next step was discussed.  With his motor difficulties, the doctor suggested a rehab center for a short while.

            “Just until you are able to do a bit more things on your own,” the doctor said. “You also would have access to physical therapy at the facility itself.”

            “What if you lived with me?”  Felicity offered.  She looked toward the doctor and asked, “We could get physical therapy outside of a facility like you described, right?”

            “Definitely. You could either go to a physical therapist or have one come to your house.  Either is a good option, in my opinion.”  He turned his attention to Roger.  “I don’t think your motor skills are so diminished as to warrant a long stay in a rehab center, but I do have concerns with you living alone.”

            “We could hire someone to come in while I’m at work,” Felicity said.

            “A rehab center sounds fine,” Roger said.

            “Why would you stay there when you can stay with me?”  Felicity said.

            “I think a rehab center is a good fit,” Roger continued.  “Can I have some information on those?  Some numbers?”

            The doctor nodded.  “Sure. I’ll go get that for you know.”

            When the doctor left Felicity said, “You really don’t think living with me is a good idea.”

            “I’ve been enough of a burden,” he said.

            “You are not a burden.  You’re my friend, and I want to help you.  Stay with me. My food is way better, and I’m cheaper.”

            “You shouldn’t have to take care of me like this.”

            “You’d do the same for me.”

            He didn’t argue that.

            “The truth is, I don’t want you to see me like this.  I don’t want you to feed me every meal and help me wash myself. I don’t want that. I appreciate that you’re willing to do that for me, but it’s not something I’m comfortable with.”        

            Felicity nodded, mollified by what he’d told her.  “Okay.”

            “Besides, if you saw me naked you’d probably fall in love with me. Not many women are immune to this muffin top.”

            She snorted.  “Ah, so this is for the sake of our friendship?”

            “I just care too much.  Besides, I don’t want Oliver to come after me for taking his girl.”

            “He probably wouldn’t care.”

            “I think he would.  I haven’t given up on you crazy kids yet.” 

            The doctor returned with some numbers and told Roger what the various places were and that they could give him more information when he called. When he left Roger looked over at Felicity and asked, “Want to help me pick a place?”

            She smiled.  “I’d like that a lot.”

 

* * *

 

 

            While things were percolating along with Roger and his recovery, things were similarly advancing at Queen Consolidated.  The company acquired a new applied sciences division, and with that a new person to lead it:  Ray Palmer. Felicity knew of him peripherally from articles she’d glanced over about his work, but the office was in an absolute buzz over him.  To celebrate Ray Palmer’s arrival and the advent of several new projects at his bequest, Queen Consolidated hosted a benefit at the local natural history museum.

            Felicity went over to Starling City Rehab – where Roger was currently bunked – to take him through his rehab exercises in her benefit gown. Roger did a low whistle when she walked in and said, “You didn’t have to get all dressed up for me.”

            “It’s not for you.  I have that benefit tonight, remember?”

            “That’s tonight.  Why are you here?”

            “Because,” she said crisply, setting her shawl down on the table. “I always come here at 7:00 to take you through your exercises.  And, frankly, I don’t trust you to do them if I’m not here.”

            “You have so little faith in me.”

            “It’s the little extras that are going to make the difference,” she said, walking over and helping him out of his wheel chair.  In the few short weeks since he got out of the hospital, he’d already made incredible progress.  He was walking – albeit slowly – and had almost full strength back in his hands.

            “What is this fancy benefit for again?  By the way, I’m still bitter you’ve never taken me to one.”

            “They’re pretty boring,” she admitted.  “And tonight is for our new head of the applied sciences division, Ray Palmer. I think it’s a little strange to have a benefit for a person, but apparently he was a pretty big addition. All the other tech companies wanted him.”

            “He sounds like quite the eligible nerd.”

            Felicity laughed, guiding him through the exercises that Roger’s physical therapist left for him to do each day after their session together. Currently they were doing small knee lifts to strengthen his hamstrings.

            “Will Oliver be there?”  Roger asked casually.

            “Of course he will.  He’s the VP of the company.”

            “This is a good win-him-back dress.  I like it.”

            “I’m not trying to win anyone back.”

            “Of course you’re not.  But if any dress were to do it, it’d be the one you’re wearing.”

            She rolled her eyes.  “Thanks Carson.”

            “Let’s skip this next exercise,” he said.  “It takes too long and I don’t want you to be late for your ball.”

            “What? It’s not a ball, and you cannot be skipping exercises in this.  They’re really important.”

            “And I will do them all.  I promise. But I do not need you for them. Go to your benefit.”

            “Are you sure?” she asked. 

            “Yes. I’m sure.  Go.”

            “Okay,” she sighed, gathering her shawl back up from the table and then grabbing her purse.  “Are you sure you –“

            “GO!”

            She left, hurrying out to her car.  In reality, she had thought very much of Oliver when she chose her dress. She was wearing a gold dress that skimmed fluidly over her curves, stopping just below her knees. It was strapless, and had a delicate pearl belt at its waist.  She wore pearl drop earrings and a simple short gold chain around her neck. Her hair was curled, and pushed over one shoulder.

            She let the valet park her car when she arrived at the museum and then walked inside, looking for Oliver.  In her distraction, she did not notice the man in a tuxedo directly in front of her.

            “Oof! I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I…”

            She trailed off when she realized that she stepped into the man of the hour himself.

            “No harm no foul,” he said good naturedly, grinning down at her as he adjusted his tuxedo jacket.  He glanced at her shoes and added, “Although those shoes look like they could do some damage.”

            “I’m really sorry,” she repeated.  “I’m not usually this clumsy.  Actually, I kind of am.  I do the whole slipping on a banana peel shtick without a banana.  It’s like the floor is filled with imaginary banana peels. Anyway, I should let you go. I don’t know why I keep talking.”

            His grin widened.  “Well, it’s entertaining.”

            “My talking?”

            He nodded.  “It has a very stream of conscious feel to it.”

            “Well, that’s because it is.  Unfortunately.”

            “I’m – “ he was cut off by someone calling his name. She could see irritation pass on his face, and he said, “I have to go.  But, I will see you later?”

            “I’m here all night,” she said with an unnecessary hand gesture.

            He flashed her another grin.  “Perfect. It was nice running into you.”

            She laughed a bit, watching him walk over to the man in the suit who looked positively ramped up about something.  Not caring enough to see how the particular conversation turned out, she headed into the venue.  She saw Digg first and walked over with a small wave.

            “Hello Digg.”

            “Hello Felicity,” he said, giving her a hug.  “You look absolutely beautiful.”

            “Oh, thanks.  It’s been a while since we’ve had one of these, so I figured I’d step it up a bit.”

            Digg laughed. “Well, it worked. Are you looking for Oliver?”

            Felicity swallowed hard.  So, he didn’t know. She’d wondered how much Oliver had told him, and it looked like the answer to that was nothing.

            “No,” she said. “Not right now.”

            She’d tried to be vague, but that in itself tipped Digg off. He frowned and asked, “Are you two having problems?”

            “No,” she said carefully.  “We’re just…” she sighed, deciding just to fess up.  “We’re on a bit of a break right now.”

            “What happened?”

            “It’s a long story,” she said.  Which was true.  It was an incredibly long story.

            “Well, I’m sure whatever it is you guys will work through it.”

            She shrugged.  “We’ll see.”

            As if sensing the topic of conversation, Oliver walked over to them. His eyes were squarely on Felicity, and when he reached them he said, “Felicity, you look stunning.”

            “Thank you.”

            They stared at each other for a moment, neither of them speaking but both on the precipice of saying, well, something.  They had to say something, but neither really knew what to say, nor did they want to be the first one to say whatever it was they were going to say.

            Digg, sensing the impasse, stepped in.

            “This is quite the party,” Digg said.  “I’m a little put out I didn’t get one when I started here.”

            The moment was broken and Oliver laughed slightly.  “I took you out to Big Belly, which I’m fairly certain you would prefer over something like this.”

            “They do make a good burger,” Digg said nostalgically.  “Do you know they added a holiday special to their menu?”

            “Why are you on such a personal level with their menu?”  Felicity asked.        “What? I’m on their emailing list.”

            She tried to fight back a bout of laughter, but was unsuccessful. When she got a hold of herself she murmured, “Of course you are.”

            Felicity felt someone looking at her and she glanced around, gaze falling squarely on Ray Palmer.  He gave her a sort of half wave before she turned her head quickly, cheeks flushing. When she looked over at him again he was making his way toward her.

            He had the manners to greet Oliver and Digg upon his arrival. He was all smooth talk and easy smiles as he shook their hands, and joked about all the fuss being made over a guy whose greatest achievement was completing all of the levels in Mario Kart.

            “That’s quite the accomplishment,” Oliver said.

            “If I could have gotten paid for that I would have never looked for work anywhere else,” Ray returned.  He glanced over at Felicity and said, “I feel bad that I didn’t get your name earlier. I figured I could wait until my lawyer calls you, but that would just be rude.”

            She smirked.  “I thought you said no harm no foul.”

            “You know, my knee is feeling a bit wonky.”

            “Felicity Smoak,” she said, grinning at his use of the word wonky. “And you, obviously, are Ray Palmer.”

            “Yeah, that’s sort of weird,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Everyone knowing me here. Although, I guess that’s assumed when you’re at a party in your honor.  Anyway, Ms. Smoak, would you like to dance?”

            Felicity’s gaze drifted to Oliver almost of its own accord, and the expression on his face was enough to make her immediately say, “Yes.”

            She took his arm and followed him out onto the dance floor, paying Oliver a single glance over her shoulder.  The tightness in his eyes was evident.  She turned her attention back to Ray and told him, “I’m surprised you’d want to dance with me after earlier.”

            “I’d never pass up the chance to dance with someone as clumsy as you claimed you are. I might actually have a run at looking like the better partner here.  That is not a feat I usually win.”

            She laughed.  “Two left feet, huh?”

            “I didn’t grow up rich like a lot of these guys,” he said. “Working three jobs growing up really didn’t leave time for dance lessons and Cotillions.”

            “No, it doesn’t,” she said, thinking of her own less than flush upbringing. “But, you’ve certainly made a name for yourself.  This party is for you, after all.”

            He shrugged.  “I got lucky.”

            She raised an eyebrow and he quickly said, “Don’t get me wrong, I worked my ass off to get here.  But a lot of people work their asses off and don’t end up anywhere.  It’s all a toss of a coin in the end.”

            “That’s sort of depressing when you think about it,” she said with a frown.

            “Really? I find it comforting.”

            “How?”

            He shrugged again.  “It’s all up to chance in the end.  So, if you do what you’re supposed to – do the work, take the time  - you can sit back and let chance, let fate do the rest.”

            She looked at him appraisingly and murmured, “You are a very surprising man, Ray Palmer.”

            “Thank you.  So, question, is Oliver staring forlornly at you or me?  Or perhaps it’s you _and_ me. So many possibilities.”

            She glanced back at Oliver and sighed.  “Can I say all of the above?”

            “I take it you two are involved?” he asked.

            “Why would you say that?”

            “It was pretty obvious from the moment I joined your group before,” he said with a bit of a goading smile.  “And don’t think it’s all him with his brooding and forlorn glances. You’re sending out some signals yourself.”

            “And what are those?”

            Ray easily answered.

“You keep angling us so that you’re in his line of sight.  And when I asked you to dance, your gaze went directly to him.”

            “You’re perceptive,” she muttered.

            “Or you’re incredibly obvious.”  She gave him a look and he returned it with a flash of a smile.  “Or not.”

            They continued dancing, Felicity trying not to angle them in Oliver’s line of sight – just to challenge Ray’s comment – but she kept doing it, anyway. When the song ended Ray dropped his hand from her waist and said, “I probably should get back to my party. I think it’s considered bad form when the guest of honor ignores all but one guest.”

            “That is probably true.”

            “It was wonderful meeting you, Felicity,” he said, taking a hold of her hand and giving it a quick kiss.  “I hope to see much more of you.”

            She watched him walk off into the crowd for a long moment before snapping herself out of the reverie she was in and walking over to the bar. She ordered herself a red wine, waiting at the counter as the bartender poured her a glass. When she felt someone settle beside her, she didn’t need to look to know who it was.

            “What did you think of Ray Palmer?”

            She looked at Oliver, feeling her attempt to tread lightly fall away when she saw the accusation lit in his eyes.

            “I liked him just fine,” she returned. 

            “It looked like you two had met before.”

            “I ran into him when I first got here,” she said.  “I was looking for you and not paying attention.  I’m lucky I didn’t knock him over.”

            “You were looking for me?”

            “Of course I was, you idiot!  Do you think I dance with one man and it means that when I’m in a room I don’t immediately look for you?  Because I do. Every damn room.”

            The bartender handed her the glass of wine and she thanked him hurriedly, reaching for her clutch that she realized she’d left at the table. Oliver pulled out his wallet and handed the bartender a few dollars.

            “Felicity-“

            “I can’t have this conversation tonight,” she said, tearing away from him. He followed her out into a side corridor.  She turned on him and said, “I can’t do this.  I’m here at this nice museum in a nice dress, and the last thing I want to do is have the _same_ argument with you over the _same_ stupid things.”

            “Felicity-“

            “Because I told you how I felt.  I told you, and then you put your hand on my shoulder, and I thought things might be getting better.  But then nothing happened. We left the room and…nothing. You didn’t call. You didn’t text.”

            “I didn’t want to put anything else on you with all the Roger stuff,” Oliver said. “You had enough going on.”

            “I know I did!” she said, voice hoarse.  She realized then that she was yelling, and checked her voice. “I know how much I had going on. I had more than I could possibly handle, and you were there.  I know I should have seen it was temporary…but you were there for me, and I thought, I don’t know, I thought it meant things were back to how they were. How I desperately wanted them to be.”

            He stepped forward and braced his hands on her outer arms.  Her brain said for her to move, but her body nearly sang under his touch.

            “I’m sorry.”

            What she was hearing sounded strangely like an apology, and she blinked up at him as she murmured, “What?”

            “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry about the way I acted after I found out about my father, and I’m sorry that I didn’t talk to you after the hospital.  I’m sorry. If you haven’t noticed, sometimes I don’t handle things in the best way.  But, you’re also the first person I look for in a room. And ever since we started fighting it’s felt like a piece of me is missing.  And, I love you.  Even in my worst moments through all of this I have loved you, and –“

            She cut him off, reaching up and tugging is mouth down to hers. He kissed her soundly, arms snaking around her waist and pulling her body tight against his. It had been so long since they’d done this, and she clung to him desperately.  She pulled away after a moment and said, “This isn’t just because I was dancing with Ray Palmer, right?”

            He smirked.  “No. Although, watching another man touch you was probably one of the hardest things I’ve had to do.”

            “We were barely touching.”

            “Doesn’t matter,” Oliver said, shaking his head.  “He was Smoak-ed.”

            Felicity blinked up at him.  “Excuse me?”

            Oliver laughed.  “It’s the effect you have on men, Felicity.  Five minutes with you and they’re a goner.  They’re Smoak-ed.”

            Felicity considered this for a moment and then murmured, “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

            Oliver buried his face in her hair and whispered, “I don’t know. I think I’m pretty Smoak-ed.”

            She grinned, pressing her nose against his cheek.  “So, are we okay?”

            He pulled back just enough to see her eyes and nodded, reaching up brushing her hair away from her face.  “We’re okay.”


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, everyone, I have decided this will be the last chapter. I've really done everything I've wanted to do with this story, and felt it was a natural place for it to end. I hope you enjoy the conclusion to this!

       Chapter Seventeen     

Felicity never thought her life could go through so many changes in a scant few weeks.  Her and Oliver broke up. Roger had his accident. It felt as if nothing would ever be the same again, but then miraculously Roger woke up and she was kissing Oliver in a corridor at the Starling Natural History Museum. Of course, things weren’t exactly the same.  Roger left the rehab center with a cane that he would likely always have to depend on for stability. Her and Oliver were together again, but something had shifted.  They were careful around each other, both of them taking care to not mention the one thing that had caused all the hoopla to begin with.  That is, until they did.

            “Can you pull up those emails about my father for me?”  Oliver asked casually one night while they watched _American Idol_.  Felicity paused the television and said, “Excuse me?”

            “The emails,” he said.  “I’m assuming you saved them.”

            Hesitantly she said, “Yeah, but –“

            “I’d like to see them.  If you don’t mind. I mean, I know they were sent to you, but…”

            “No, that’s fine,” she said quickly.  “I just…Why do you want to see them?”

            “I want to figure out who sent you them.”

            Felicity frowned.  “Do you really think that’s such a good idea?”

            “I don’t know,” he admitted.  “But it’s been bothering me ever since I found out about them.  Who sent them to you?  And why?  Obviously, you weren’t going to out my father, and if it wasn’t to bring him out of hiding why do it in the first place?”

            “I don’t know,” she said.  “I’ve thought about that, too, and it doesn’t really make sense.”

            “I need to know who sent you those emails,” he said. 

            “Well, you’re going to have a hell of a time,” Felicity told him, reaching over and picking up her laptop.  She spoke as she logged into her email.  “I followed the IP address, but they were smart.  They routed their email through a dummy account.”

            “Could you trace who made the dummy account?” Oliver asked.

            She shook her head, and when she located the email – saved in a discreet folder – she passed him the laptop.

            “Whoever did this was good.  Really good.”

            “Liu’s Chop Suey,” Oliver said, reading the title off the dummy site the IP looped back to.  “I think we used to order food there when I was little.”

            Felicity’s eyes widened in surprise.  “Really?”

            Oliver nodded, clicking on a few links.  “Why would someone trace back to a takeout place from my childhood.”

            “How would they even know it was from your childhood?”  Felicity pressed.  “Oliver, it’s probably nothing more than a coincidence.”

            “I don’t believe in coincidences,” he said.  “Not after everything that happened.”

            “Well, I tried everything before,” she said.  “This person is squeaky clean.  There’s no trace except for what he wanted us to find.”

            “What about the recreation center you went to?” he asked.  “Someone had to have dropped off those files.”

            “Sure,” Felicity said, nodding.  “But I don’t see how that helps you.”

            “We could get the feed from a security camera.  See what’s on there.”

            She sighed, seeing how much Oliver wanted to know the identity of this mystery sender, and just how unattainable that identity was.  It broke her heart to see him like this, but what was she supposed to do?  What he was looking for wasn’t possible.

            “Most places don’t save backlogs of security footage,” Felicity said. “And even if they did, we don’t know what day they dropped the package off. It could have been that day, it could have been earlier.”

            “Could you hack in?”  Oliver asked suddenly. “I know how good you are with computers. And you said yourself you hacked into the FBI no-fly database back in college.”

            She blanched.  “Oliver, I can’t do that.”

            “It’s only a recreation center.”

            “It’s a federal offense,” she said. “I did it back in college because I was young and stupid.  But, those things have real repercussions.  I can’t risk that now.”

            Oliver seemed jolted out of his fanaticism for the moment and said, “You’re right.  I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you to do that.”

            “It’s okay,” she said, reaching toward him and taking his hand. “There are some things that are better left unknown, Oliver.  Whoever this person is, they reunited you with your father.  I think you should leave well enough alone.”

            Oliver nodded.  “Okay.”

 

* * *

 

 

            He didn’t leave well enough alone.  He got Diggle to request footage from the recreation center, capitalizing on a fortuitous old army connection that worked at the center.  Felicity watched warily as Oliver sat through hours of footage, working his way through a bag of Doritos and getting fine nacho cheese powder all over his keyboard.

            “He’s obsessed,” Felicity told Roger, sitting with him in his apartment. “Every moment that he spends not working is spent trying to figure out who the mystery email guy is.”

            “This sounds like a made for TV movie or something,”  Roger intoned.  “Obviously, it would be called Obsessed.  Or Obsession.  I like both.”

            “Stop it,” she said.  His gaze was far off and she quickly said, “Don’t you dare –“

            “Jared Leto would play Oliver.”

            “ – cast the movie,” Felicity finished with a frown.

            “I think he could really capture Oliver’s complexities,” Roger said with a knowing nod as if to say, of course his complexities are an integral part of the fictitious film.

            “Please stop.”

            “You, of course, would require an actress of stunning beauty and just the right amount of spunk.”

            She rolled her eyes.  “But, of course.”

            “I’m thinking Jennifer Lawrence,” he said thoughtfully. “Although, I am open to suggestions.”

            “Can we just be serious for a second?”  Felicity implored.  “What’s going to happen when he invariably can’t figure out who sent those emails? What does it mean for us?”

            “I don’t know.”

            “Because, if you remember, that whole situation was sort of what broke us up before. I was hoping we would have a moratorium on the whole thing, but here it is again.  Stealing all of my boyfriend’s free time.”

            “I think you need to just let him go through with this.  Let him look into it.  Let him turn over every unturned rock.  There’s really not much else you can do.”

            “Like tell him to stop looking?” she offered.

            “Yeah, don’t do that.”

            “I just feel like I keep waiting for the other shoe to fall,” Felicity said, propping her feet up on the table, to which Roger promptly swatted her feet and she returned them to the ground.  She’d forgotten how fastidious he was with the cleanliness of his furniture.

            “You already raised your concerns.  That’s all you can do.  Anything more and you look unsupportive.”

            “I guess,” she sighed, standing up.  She stretched her back a bit and then grabbed her purse, slinging it over her arm. “Alright, I should probably head back. And get some more Doritos. Oliver keeps eating all of mine.”

            “They’re on sale at Schnuck’s,” Roger piped on her way out of his apartment. As the door closed he called out, “Two for four dollars!”

 

* * *

 

 

            That night when she got back to her apartment Oliver was seated at her kitchen table, open bag of Doritos on his lap and eyes trained on the screen. There was no sound – which was her first clue he was watching the security video – and then she noticed the pointed, strained nature of his gaze.  Oh yes. It was definitely the video again.

            “Any update?” she asked, depositing the few grocery bags on the counter. Oliver glanced up at her and said, “No. Do you need help with those?”

            She shook her head.  “I’m fine. You keep looking.”

            “It’s sort of interesting watching all these people,” he remarked. “People do the funniest things when no one’s watching.”

            “That’s probably because they _think_ no one’s watching,” she answered, walking over and wrapping her arms around his shoulders.  She watched the screen, people walking on and off, and doing their thing. It felt a bit voyeuristic to be watching, even with a purpose.  Another thing she noticed is that there were a lot of lockers, and a lot of people were putting things in them.  There was no way Oliver was going to be able to see anything.

            But she didn’t tell him that.  Instead, she kissed the side of his neck and said, “Keep looking. I’m sure something will come up.”

            A few hours later, something did.

            “I don’t believe this,”  Oliver said loudly, drawing Felicity’s attention from the couch where she was doing some knitting.  She put down her half-finished scarf and walked over to him.

            “What is it?”

            “That guy is legitimately stealing weights,” Oliver said, pointing at a guy at the far back.  “Who does that?”

            “I have no idea,” she said, laughing.  “I’m surprised no one noticed and said something.”

            “Would you say something to the guy stealing weights?”  Oliver posited, looking back at her.

            “Probably not,” she admitted.  “I’d be afraid he’d use the weights on me.  I…” she trailed off when noticed a man open a locker and put what looked like a large tan envelope in it.  In all the action around him, she wouldn’t have noticed the man if she hadn’t recognized him.

            “Isn’t that Malcolm Merlyn?” she said, pointing at the dark haired figure. He stepped back from the locker, and walked off the screen.

            “Yeah. He has a membership.”

            “Oliver, did you see what he just did?”

            “What?”

            She reached over him and quickly moved the tape back.  She pointed at Malcolm as he, again, put an envelope in the locker.

            “Does that look like the envelope you picked up?”  Oliver asked in a strange voice.

            Felicity nodded, licking her lips.  “Yes, it does.”

            “Are you sure?”

            “I mean, it was an envelope.  That…that looks like an envelope.”

            Oliver was quiet for a moment and then asked, “Felicity…did we just figure out who was sending those emails?”

            Finding it hard to believe it all herself, Felicity nodded and said, “Yeah. I think we just did.”

 

* * *

 

 

            It took Oliver a few days to work up the courage to pay Malcolm a visit.   Part of it was disbelief. Could everyone around him really have known his father was alive for all these years and not tell him? And why did he decide to speak out now? It was Felicity who finally convinced him to go, reminding him, “This is what you’ve been working for. Go see him.”

            He went under one condition: she went with him.  They drove over one day after work, and Oliver was so nervous in the elevator ride up to Malcolm’s office that he actually felt like he was going to be sick.  But that was why he brought Felicity.  She took his hand and gave him that reassuring smile of hers, and he felt for the first time since he stepped out of the car that he could do this.  He could face Malcolm Merlyn and finally get the answers he wanted. The answers he needed.

            Felicity stopped just outside of Malcolm’s office and braced her hands on either side of Oliver’s body.

            “What is it?” he asked, eyes darting back to the office behind her.

            “I think you should do this one your own.”

            “What?”

            “I know you want me in there, and if after this you still want me to I will, but I think you’ll regret not doing this yourself.  This is about you and your family, Oliver. This isn’t about me.”

            “You _are_ my family,” he said.

            “You can do this,” she told him in a soft voice.  “Go in there and find out the truth.”

            He hesitated for a moment and then dropped his mouth to hers for a brief kiss.

            “You’ll be out here?”

            “I’ll be right here,” she said, bringing her hands down to his and giving them a reassuring squeeze.  “You can do this, Oliver.”

            He nodded and then dropped her hands, heading toward Malcolm’s office. He could feel his nerves mounting as he walked forward and through the wide glass doors. The secretary greeted him with a temperate smile and asked, “Can I help you?”

            “I’m here to see Malcolm Merlyn.”

            “Do you have an appointment?”

            He shook his head.  “No, but just tell him it’s Oliver Queen.  I’m a family friend.”

            The secretary nodded and called back.  After a moment she hung up and said, “You can go back to his office.”

            He walked back, counting his breaths as he walked to calm his nerves.

            _In, one._

_Out, two._

_In, three._

_Out, four._

            Malcolm grinned wide when he saw Oliver, welcoming him with literal open arms as he stepped forward and embraced him.

            “It’s great to see you, Oliver.  What brings you over to Merlyn Global?”

            “I wanted to talk to you about something,” Oliver began.  “About my father.”

            Malcolm answered with an expectant nod, but Oliver could see his left eye twitch ever so slightly.  Oliver explained the emails and the video, watching Malcolm shrink farther and farther back to his desk as he went on.  When he was finished the room rang with silence, Oliver somewhat breathless from the story and Malcolm taking it in.  The phone rang and Malcolm picked it up.

            “Bridget, please hold my calls.  I’m busy right now.”

            He hung up, eyes going back to Oliver.  They’d changed.  The careful façade was gone, replaced by a wary visage.

            “Your mother came to me and told me of the problems your father had with the Bratva,” Malcolm explained slowly.  His voice was low, and Oliver stepped forward to hear him better.

            “I helped them.  I’m the one who arranged his disappearance.  I put in the calls to get the crash in place, and then planted stories with the right journalists.”

            “Why?”

            “Because your mother and father were my friends,” Malcolm said. “They needed help, and I did what I could.”

            What Malcolm was saying made sense, but there still was something that Oliver didn’t understand.  Malcolm’s reasoning for helping his parents when the Bratva issues happened followed, but what about the emails?  There was still something that didn’t add up.

            “If you helped my father disappear – if you put in all that time and effort - why would you send Felicity those emails?”

            Malcolm blinked rapidly.  “I didn’t send the emails, Oliver.  All that I did was put the envelope in the locker.”

            “Then who sent them?” Oliver pressed.

            “Your father.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Felicity sat on the bench, actively avoiding the man across the hallway who kept trying to make eye contact with her.  She crossed and uncrossed her legs, flipping between wanting to take her phone out and then not wanting to because she didn’t want the first thing Oliver saw after receiving potentially life changing news to be her on her phone. She sat on her hands and counted back from one hundred.

            When he walked out she couldn’t read his expression.  He went over to her and offered her his hand. She took it without question, following him to the elevator.  When the doors slid closed he said, “It was my father.”

            “What?”

            “He wanted to make contact.  Malcolm was only helping.”

            “I can’t believe it,” Felicity murmured, following Oliver out of the elevator. He waited for her and then slipped his arm around her waist, tugging her close.  “I…what do you think?  Are you okay?”

            Oliver nodded.  “Yeah, it’s sort of liberating, to be honest.  I mean, this entire time I was expecting some really complicated web, but…it wasn’t.”

            Felicity nodded and murmured, “It was just a father reaching out to his son. But, why did he email me? Why didn’t he go straight to you?”

            “I think he knew I wouldn’t let myself believe it,” he said. “I would have seen it and thought it was just some person targeting my family.  But, you were different.  I think he knew you would look into it.  You wouldn’t discount it automatically.”

            “I’m glad I didn’t,” Felicity said.

            He nodded, tightening his hold on her waist.  “I’m glad you didn’t, either.  If you had just come to me, I think I would have made you stop looking into it.” He paused and added, “And then I wouldn’t have my father back.”

            “So, are you happy?” she asked, laying her hand on his chest.

            He considered her question for a moment and then said, “Yeah. I am.”

 

* * *

 

 

            “So, it was his father?”  Roger said in surprise.

            Felicity nodded, taking a Dorito out of the bag and then passing it over to him.

            “I was as surprised as you.  Can you believe all that time the person outing Robert Queen was, well, Robert Queen.”

            “He wasn’t really outing himself,” Roger said.  “He knew you wouldn’t go to the press.”

            “No,” she admitted. “I wouldn’t have.”

            “But, damn, that is quite the conclusion to that crazy tale. And one that I did not see coming. If this Lifetime movie ever gets made, it is going to be so good.”

            She laughed, swatting his arm lightly. 

            “I thought you were done with that.”

            “No, I didn’t cast myself.  Which, admit it, is the most important casting of the entire film.”

            She smirked and reached forward, grabbing her glass of root beer. “Uh huh.”

            “It’s Zac Efron, by the way,” he said.

            She snorted into her glass.  “Seriously?”

            “I’ve been told I bear a passing resemblance to him.”

            “Yeah, try _way_ passing.”

            He made a face and then stood up from the couch, grabbing his cane from the side of the couch and going into the kitchen to refill his glass with more soda. She watched him make his way back.

            “How is it?” she asked, nodding her head toward his cane.

            “Oh, you mean walking around like the old guy from _Up_?” he quipped.  “Oh, it’s wonderful.”

            She frowned.  “I’m sorry.”

            “It’s really not that bad,” he said, sitting back down. “I’m getting killer muscle mass in my right arm.  And the cane is a pretty great babe magnet.”

            She laughed.  “Really?”

            “I can’t tell you how many old ladies have chatted me up in the grocery store since I started with this baby.”

            “Maybe you’ll finally meet your soul mate.”

            “I always wanted to find someone with a good medical plan.”

            She slouched back against the couch, pulling her knees in to her chest.

            “Sometimes I can’t believe just how okay you are with all of this,” she murmured. “It’s remarkable, Roger. You are remarkable.”

            “It’s not that hard to be okay with it,” he said with a shrug. “I mean, I could have been dead, or worse.  I could have been here, but unable to walk or get out my phenomenal zingers.”

            Felicity smirked at that.

            “I’m not just okay with it, I’m ecstatic.  That could have been the end for me, but I was given a second chance. And I’ll be damned if I spend that second chance being all angry and bitter.  We both know I don’t have a face for brooding.”

            “No,” she said, shaking her head with a soft smile.  “You don’t.”

            “So, I choose to be happy.  And goofy. Because that’s who I am.”

            She scooted closer to him and linked her arm with his, resting her head on his shoulder.

            “I sort of love you, Roger Silverman.”

            He grinned.  “Back at ya, kid.”

 

* * *

 

 

            That night she laid with Oliver in her bed, her head on his chest and his heartbeat steady beneath her ear.  She tapped her finger against his chest in time with his own heartbeat.

            “I’m really glad I don’t have a twin bed.”

            His chest rumbled against her cheek.

            “Me too.”

            “I don’t think we’d fit,” she continued, running her hand along the expanse of her chest and snuggling closer to him.  “Or we’d fall off the bed in the middle of the night.”

            “Or in the middle of things.”

            She grinned, looking up at him.  “Exactly.  My decision for a full bed when I moved in here was well made.  Although, I have to admit your side usually just had wrappers and whatever book I was reading.”

            “So, you got an upgrade with me, huh?”

            “I don’t know.  I’ve read some really good books.”

            There was a glint of mischief in his eye and he suddenly flipped her on her back, his mouth assaulting hers.  She reached up and threaded her fingers in his hair, kissing him back with as much fervor as he did.  He brought his mouth down to the hollow of her neck and murmured, “Those books still holding up?”

            “Some of them were Harry Potter,” she said, pressing against him. “A mere mortal cannot compete with those.”  Her eyes drifted shut. “But, you come pretty darn close.”

            He fell onto his side and gathered her against him.  She took his hand and held it against her belly.

            “So, I was thinking that maybe I could leave some of my stuff here,” Oliver began, his breath warm on her neck.  “Some clothes.  A toothbrush. That sort of stuff.”

            “Okay.”

            “You can leave some stuff like that at my place too, if you want.”

            She grinned, squeezing his hand.  “Okay.”

            “I was thinking we could also do a murder suicide.”

            She glanced back at him in confusion to see an easy smile on his face. “Just wanted to see if you’d say okay to anything.”

            “Very funny. I said okay to those things because I’m okay with them.”  She tilted her head back and kissed him.  “I’m very okay with them.”

            She settled back against him and they talked for a while before both of them drifted off to sleep.  When she woke up sunshine spilled through her window, making his blonde hair look almost golden. She rested her chin on his chest, just taking in the quiet normalcy of the moment. She imagined mornings like this at his apartment.  At their apartment. At their house when they finally decide they’re too old for apartments.  And then she’s imaging it all.  Impromptu weekends in New York.  Home cooked dinners. Saturdays where they spend the entire day in bed.  Quiet moments stolen between rushing one kid to soccer practice and the other to ballet.

            “Felicity?”

            His voice pulled her from her reverie and she glanced up at him with a dreamy grin.

            “Mhm?”

            “Where were you there?  You looked miles away.”

            “Oh, nowhere,” she said, pressing her head against his chest. “Just my little corner of the world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to leave a little note here and thank each and every one of you who has been with me for this story. This was my very first Olicity story, and my first foray into the Olicity fandom. All of you have been so warm and welcoming to me. I cannot thank you enough for going on this journey with me. I hope you enjoyed this story's conclusion!
> 
> If you're like - LIZ, WHY DID YOU END THIS?! - you can continue to follow my writing at:
> 
> Felicity The Virgin
> 
> Anyone Else But You
> 
> Start Of Something New (which I might actually update soon!)
> 
> Thank you again!


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